


Flawed By Design

by MephistAgain



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adult Themes, Big Plot Reveal, Character building, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mature/Believable In-character Romance Development, Plot Twists, Spartan Badassery, action sequences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 79,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MephistAgain/pseuds/MephistAgain
Summary: Year: 2558. Master Chief is returned triumphant to Infinity following the destruction of the Didact's ship, but the cost of humanity's salvation is steep this time - perhaps too steep. The UNSC's hero is a threat ONI can no longer abide. They've already pocketed one dirty secret. What to do with a legendary super soldier in a downward spiral? (Femme B312/117 pairing) Canon up to and including events of Halo 4 for majority of characters.
Relationships: John-117(Master Chief)/Spartan-B312(Noble Six)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 82





	1. Acquiring a Legend

“Captain Lasky.”

“Spartan - we weren’t expecting you,” Tom admitted as he stepped forward to meet the approaching soldier. He shot his communications officer an inquisitive look, but she gave a discreet shake of her head to confirm the message they had received regarding ONI sending a retrieval team had not made mention of a Spartan.

“You should have been provided with the relevant details, Sir,” came the simple response.

Tom cleared his throat. “Right. So what exactly is it you’re here to retrieve?”

“With all due respect, Sir, perhaps we could have a word in private?” 

Despite being worded as a request, Tom was under no illusions he wouldn’t be receiving any answers unless he complied. He gave a nod and gestured to the briefing room off of the bridge, then followed the Spartan in, waiting patiently as the door slid shut. “What’s this about?”

“My orders are to retrieve Sierra-117.”

“Retrieve him?” Tom repeated, dumbfounded. “And take him where?”

“Classified.”

Even before the word was spoken, Tom could see it coming. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand - Chief was already debriefed. What does ONI want with him?” He wasn’t expecting a response, at least not one which shone any light on the matter, but he couldn’t stop from asking.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, that’s not for me to say.” 

“And what do you expect me to tell my crew?”

“Sir?” the Spartan replied, a hint of uncertainty entering into her voice for once. 

Tom frowned. “I told him you were all human. Not just soldiers, not expendable.” He paused. “Do you know what he’s done? What he’s sacrificed? For all of us?”

“I’m aware of what’s in his file.”

“His file.” Tom ran a hand over his face. “I don’t think you need me to tell you there’s more left out of those reports than in.”

The Spartan cocked her head in acknowledgement. 

“Look, whatever this is about - we owe our lives to him. And I don’t just mean everyone here on _Infinity_. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Noted.” The Spartan took a step towards him, forcing Tom to crane his neck in order to maintain eye contact with the opaque visor. “I’m here to complete an assignment, Captain Lasky. Where is Sierra-117?”

Tom stared into his own reflection for a few moments, then reached out to activate the comm panel.

“Captain?” his comm officer responded promptly.

“Get me the Master Chief on the bridge.”

“Right awa-”

“No need. We’re load’n’go. I’ll meet him in the hangar,” the Spartan interjected, already leaving the briefing room. 

Tom walked to the open doorway to watch the gray-armored soldier striding from the bridge. Several of the crew shot puzzled glances his way, including his comm officer.

“Sir?”

“Get me a secure channel to the Chief. Now.” 

* * *

“Ready to depart on your say-so, Lieutenant,” the pilot’s voice sounded over her internal comm as B312 approached the non-descript pelican waiting in _Infinity_ ’s vast hangar. 

“Copy that. Stand by.” She could feel the gazes of several maintenance crews on her as she paused outside the loading ramp. Wondering what her presence there meant. As long as they continued to wonder from afar and mind their own business, she didn’t much care. 

“Ma’am, the _Retribution_ wants an update on our status.”

“Awaiting package transfer.” 

“Copy that.”

B312 shifted focus as one of the access doors opened. 117 walked into the hangar and proceeded towards the pelican. Watching for signs of intent in his posture, B312 noted most of the work in the hangar had come to a standstill as all eyes followed the Master Chief. He came to a stop before her. “I’ve been assigned to escort you to the UNSC _Retribution_ , Sierra-117.”

Silence ensued as both Spartans stood, studying the other. 

“Understood,” 117 responded finally.

B312 turned to allow him to board the waiting spacecraft. Tools had been set down and crew members exchanged unsettled looks. “Package secure, depart immediately,” she told the pilot as she took one last sweeping glance around the hangar before following 117.

Inside the pelican, the Spartan-II had already taken a seat. B312 settled opposite him as the door closed. Although his back was straight and he appeared alert, she couldn’t help sensing there was also a certain weariness clinging to him. The multitude of dents and scrapes marring his green armor did nothing to diminish his commanding presence and B312 found herself voicing her respect without giving it much thought. “It’s an honour.”

Helmet tipping towards her slightly, he said nothing. 

Far from offended, B312 looked towards the bulkhead separating them from the pilots as she felt the pelican lift off. It would be a short trip to the coordinates they’d been provided to rendezvous with the _Retribution._ From there, she didn’t know what happened to 117. It was above her paygrade. Far above.

“Spartan-IV?”

Turning back at the unexpected question, she gave a shake of her head. “III.”

117 seemed to consider this. “What company?”

She hadn’t been advised regarding disclosing her identity and took some time to decide how to answer, but even so when she eventually did she had no idea what made her speak the truth. “Beta.”

“You weren’t there. Pegasi,” 117 clarified.

“No.” Nearly her entire company had been wiped out on that moon. Their mission, while successful, had come at the cost of almost all engaging Spartan-III’s. She struggled to recall the faces of those she’d undergone the program with now. It felt like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was. So much separated the soldier she’d been then from the one she now was. 

“You’re Noble Six.”

B312 blinked as her HUD alerted her to her increased heart rate. 

“Approaching rendezvous coordinates, Lieutenant,” the pilot informed her. 

Getting to her feet, B312 moved towards the cockpit, only to be arrested as 117 caught her by the arm. 

“You delivered Cortana to the _Pillar of Autumn_ ,” he stated with confidence. 

Twisting her wrist abruptly, B312 broke free of his grip. “Noble team successfully delivered the package.” She wouldn’t take credit for her comrades’ sacrifices. If not for them, their mission would have been a failure. The fact she was one of only two surviving members was irrelevant. And also classified. “And Noble Six is listed MIA.” That said, she hit the panel to open the door to the cockpit. “ETA to rendezvous.”

“ _Retribution_ should be exiting slipspace any second now, Ma’am.” 

She could feel 117 behind her, presumably gazing out the viewscreen. As she watched, a rupture opened and the _Autumn_ -class heavy cruiser emerged. The pelican accelerated towards the cruiser, docking in the corresponding landing bay. B312 turned, coming face to face with the impenetrable wall of green MJOLNIR. 

“Hangar re-pressurization complete in 5, 4, 3, 2,” the pilot announced, flipping the switch to lower the loading door as his count ended. 

“You’re expected on H-deck, Sierra-117,” B312 spoke up when 117 failed to deboard. 

He continued to stare beyond her, his helmet still directed towards the front of the pelican. 

“117.” She could hear the pilots shuffling uneasily in their seats as they watched the showdown. Her hand crept behind her back to the disc she’d been supplied with in case the package proved… reluctant. She did not want to use it, but neither did she relish a close quarters skirmish in which the pelican or the pilots could be damaged. Besides which, 117 seemed more distracted than obstinate. He didn’t track her movement at all. “John,” she tried one last time and was surprised when he lurched back, reaching for his weapon. “Don’t do it!” She seized the small disc, simultaneously snatching the M6C from the mag-holster on her thigh with her other hand, but 117 froze just as abruptly as he’d initially moved. 

He lowered his arms to his sides as his helmet panned carefully left, then right, eventually fixing onto the disc poised in her hand.

B312 slipped it back into place. 

“What’s your status, 312? We don’t have a visual - why haven’t you deboarded?” someone patched into her internal comms.

“Be with you shortly,” she answered, sensing 117 needed a moment. She replaced the M6C with slow movements and brought her hands up in a conciliatory manner. “It’s all good. We’re headed to H-deck,” she told him.

This time he reacted as expected, turning and walking off the pelican without further prompting.


	2. Cue the Memories

“At ease, Lieutenant.”

B312 clasped her hands behind her back as she watched her CO take a seat.

“Any idea why you’re in here?”

“I beat my record in the last target sim.”

“Impressive considering Dr. Akamine flagged you for… ‘irregular neuro activity’,” Vance quoted, brows raised. He glanced from the digitized holo-file floating above his desk to her.

B312 shrugged. “Scanner malfunction,” she supplied. 

“I’d agree with you, but Akamine logged three separate instances over your last five sim sessions. What’s your take?”

“They pay me to shoot things, Sir.” Had she been wearing her armor, she would have rolled her eyes.

Vance waved his hand to collapse the holo-file. “I’ve got a rec here for a psych eval.”

“Just completed one of those last month,” B312 pointed out evenly. She’d been cleared to continue active duty.

“I saw that, and it’s probably a waste of resources, but if it’s going to get them off your back, might as well suck it up, L-T.” He stood up. “You meet with Meyers tomorrow at 0800. Dismissed.”

Coming to attention, she saluted and left. Crew cleared a path for her, stepping aside as determined strides brought her to her one refuge aboard _Retribution_ ; the generously sized gymnasium segregated for her use alone. She stepped up to the punching bag and commenced beating the ever living shit out of it.

It’d taken months following her evac from Reach for her to get a handle on the flashbacks. Months of alternating drug cocktails, psychotherapy, equipment monitoring her every bodily function. Months locked away in the deepest, darkest drawer ONI could stuff her into to avoid leakage of her survivor status. After all, for a soldier of her particular skill set, MIA suited their needs much better. And now a few blips on a brain scan was all it took for someone to raise a red flag? She couldn’t go back to that.

She wasn’t pacing herself, the bag jerking wildly with each impact. 

Meyers knew too much. Had seen too much. Too much of her struggle to seal the memories where they belonged - in the past. Irregular neuro activity would be akin to a crack in her armor to Meyers. If left unattended, the potential for a full on breach was real. 

The metallic tang of blood reached her nostrils and B312 swallowed convulsively. _Her blood, hot and slick as it trickled beneath her bodysuit, crimson leaking down the outer alloy plating. Sangheili blood, slickening her hands, making it difficult to grip weapons. Her weapons. Then their weapons. Any weapon. Anything. Her helmet is gone. It’s loud. So loud. Elites snarling. Someone is screaming. She’s screaming. Chest is burning. Burning._

* * *

“I’d like us to talk about this.”

B312 gazed at the holo-vid, frozen on an image of her exiting the gymnasium with bloodied knuckles post-meltdown the previous day. “I’m here about a neuro scan report, Ma’am,” she answered blandly, resisting the urge to glance down at her bandaged hands. 

Meyers flicked her fingers through the air, bringing up said report. “We’ll get to that, Briar.” 

Jaw tightening at the use of her given name, she gave a nod.

“So tell me about what happened,” Meyers insisted, gesturing to the holo-vid. 

“Frustration. As you’re aware, I just passed a psych eval.”

“PTSD sufferers often experience relapses of symptoms, as I’ve mentioned previously,” Meyers explained with patience. “The key is determining what triggers these incidents, for which I require honesty on your part.” She smiled.

Briar exhaled in a controlled manner. All psych evals were recorded, and while she wasn’t currently attached to any monitoring equipment, she knew the footage would be reviewed for signs of duress or any untoward behaviour which might mark her as unfit for duty. “I didn’t experience a relapse, I took some irritation out on a punching bag. Being here is a waste of my time and yours, Ma’am. My sim score during those neuro scans was exceptional. If my neuro activity was irregular, why didn’t it affect my ability to perform?”

Meyers crossed her legs, adopting a casual posture Briar was all too familiar with by now. “That’s what we’re here to discuss. What’s changed for you over the past three days?”

“Nothing.”

“I saw you undertook an assignment to the UNSC _Infinity_ recently.” 

“Nothing of note, Ma’am.” 

“You retrieved Master Chief Petty Officer John-117.”

She shrugged. “If that’s what the file says.” The irony of ONI redacting some entries from even the shrink they’d assigned her was not lost on Briar. 

“What was that like?” Meyers persisted.

“Uneventful.”

“What was your impression of him?”

Briar snorted. “You’re the doctor, not me.” Humour, she’d found, was acceptable. It was a normal human response, and in moderation, its use was a sign she was functioning as she should be. As she was expected to be. She was also aware the chances were good that 117 had, or currently was, undergoing psych evals from Meyers as well. 

“This would have been your first interaction with the Master Chief, is that correct?”

“If that’s what the file says.”

“The file says the package Noble team was sent to Reach to retrieve was the AI Cortana, who was later paired with the Master Chief.” Meyers raised her brows expectantly. 

“The package was delivered successfully,” Briar parroted the phrase that’d by now become synonymous with these sessions. There’d been days she’d believed her entire future had hinged upon her ability to speak those words with just the right amount of sentimentality, detachment, and acceptance. 

“Did he say anything to you about Cortana?”

This question surprised her for multiple reasons, not the least of which was that feed from her Mark VII MJOLNIR was saved and later uploaded to the cruiser’s databanks. So if not Meyers, _someone_ should already know what had been said between them. “117? No.”

“And knowing he was the ultimate recipient of the package most of Noble team perished retrieving makes you feel…?”

“Noble team completed its mission. What happened to the package after that is outside my scope, Ma’am.”

Meyers tapped a manicured nail against the arm of her chair. “I’m going to be frank with you, Briar. The fact you began experiencing these symptoms immediately following your assignment points to some part of it being the trigger, whether you want to acknowledge that or not.”

“I can’t acknowledge what isn’t there, Ma’am.” Briar nodded to the neuro scan reports still hovering beside Meyers. “Let me run the sim again. The scans’ll be normal.” If given the opportunity, she would find a way to pass.

“That may be an option, but for now I’m assigning you leave time. Mandatory.” Meyers manipulated the holo-file, inputting her findings. “Sending you back into the field right now could result in a more significant setback. We’ll continue with sessions every other day and reassess two weeks out from now.” 

The new skin over her raw knuckles broke as Briar’s hand clenched. “Ma’am.” Getting to her feet, she waited to be dismissed.

“Take care of yourself,” Meyers brought the session to a close as she always did, smiling and waving her out. 

* * *

Her grip on the barbell slipped and the weight hit the deck with a clatter. Briar pulled her hand back, examining the mixture of sweat and blood which had soaked through the bandaging. As she stared, it began to tremble. Her chest tightened.

“No.” 

Tearing the bandage from her abused flesh, she cast it away and flexed her fingers.

“Walk it off, 312,” she muttered as she stepped onto the treadmill and set a sprint pace. This she pounded out for 10 klicks as it required her to regulate her breathing, pushing through the tightness to find the most efficient respiratory rate. 

It was once she’d finished up and was mopping a towel over her face that the door slid open. Turning, water bottle in hand, Briar watched the figure filling the doorway step inside. 

“I was told to make use of these facilities,” 117 said, as though his presence required an explanation. 

“By all means,” Briar forced out, despite it being precisely the opposite of what she wished to say. Dirty little secret that she was, this small piece of _Retribution_ had been hers and hers alone for the past number of years. The cruiser carried no other Spartans and the ODSTs and regular enlisted occupied separate decks from her. The only crew she interacted with were her immediate superiors, her diagnostics team, her shrink, and the mechs and techies responsible for the upkeep of her armor and weaponry. 

117 walked to the treadmill to warm-up and she brought the water bottle to her lips to drink as she noted him eying up the settings. Despite no longer possessing the anonymity of the helmet to shield his features, his face didn’t give much away. Lines creased the corners of his eyes and his close cropped brown hair was peppered with silver near his temples and ears. According to his file, he’d reached the venerable age of 47. Uncommon for a Spartan. Taking into consideration his mission count and list of acknowledged accolades, it was extraordinary. 

When several beats passed and still he hadn’t stepped onto the treadmill, Briar lowered the water bottle. Tension seemed to have entered his body, his brow furrowed slightly as he stared down at the controls. It was only a fraction of a second, but she saw the grimace of pain flicker across his features, mouth tightening before a muscle in his jaw ticked and he got onto the treadmill, enabling what would amount to a ground eating jog. 

She continued to observe him, but he stared resolutely ahead at nothing, and Briar recognized the coping tactic for what it was. Mindless physical exertion had been the first thing she’d turned to following her recovery as well. She’d swiftly wisened up to the fact busying her mind was a better way to keep the flashbacks at bay than emptying it, however. 

If she were the betting type, she’d wager irregular neuro activity were the least of 117’s problems. Even the vanilla content of the UNSC’s records on him painted a classic picture for a severe case of PTSD. And that was excluding the rigors of the Spartan-II program, which - knowing what she did of her own training - Briar could only assume had been a special sort of hell as the predecessor. 

Grabbing her fatigue jacket from the bench, she left him to his demons. She had her own to deal with.


	3. I See You

"Briar - you're early. I'll be right with you."

She stepped back from the sealed door, eyes narrowing at the harried edge to Meyers' voice as it'd sounded over the comm on the door panel.

"Understood."

A few minutes ticked by before the door opened.

"Come in. I'm afraid I'll have to cut this session a little short due to some time constraints. Please, have a seat."

There'd been a conspicuous air of distraction about the doctor during the abbreviated session, but far be it from Briar to complain. She headed to the gymnasium once finished, only to walk in on 117 methodically pounding the punching bag. The chain suspending the bag rattled with the force of each precise blow. Sweat had soaked through the back of his standard issue tee, informing her he'd been at it for a while.

Briar contemplated leaving. She wasn't in any mood for company. Then again, since he'd begun sharing the gym with her, 117 had barely spoken more than a handful of words. And he was in the process of demolishing her god damn punching bag. She pushed up the sleeves of her fatigue jacket and approached the punching bag, giving its aggressor a wide berth since he seemed oblivious to her presence. He faltered when she took ahold of the swaying bag, steadying it, his expression one of unfiltered hostility for a moment before it closed, smoothing before her very eyes to the mask of impassivity he usually wore.

"You don't need to do that," she informed him.

"Do what?" he questioned, his gaze travelling between her and the bag as he attempted to decipher the meaning of her statement.

"Cover it up." Briar lifted her shoulders slowly. "Be unaffected." Better than most, she understood that was what they wanted - what they expected. Right up until the moment they didn't. Right up until it made you a pariah instead of a good soldier. All their shifting, blurring lines; do your duty no matter the cost, but never do it _too_ well. Meet expectations, but don't _exceed_ them - especially not the ones they didn't put in writing. She understood what it was they wanted from her now; everything short of heroism, up to and including martyrdom. The only good heroes were dead ones in ONI's eyes. Which was why Noble Six had perished on Reach. Why she was a ghost.

117 merely met her stare with indifference. He didn't understand. Not yet.

"Your call." She cocked her head. "But I see you." Twisting the bag, she showed him the name scrawled across the faded black leather, _Betty IX_. "Go easy on B9. I don't feel like having to break in 10 just yet." That said, she headed back out of the gymnasium.

* * *

" _I've seen your file. Even the parts the ONI censors didn't want me to. I'm glad to have your skill set, but we're a team. That lone wolf stuff stays behind."_

Briar's eyes opened in the complete darkness of her quarters, Carter's words still echoing through her mind. There'd been a time when she'd racked her brain for the one scenario in which the outcome could have been different, convinced there was such a thing. And maybe there was. But it didn't change what had happened. Nothing could.

Noble team, with the exception of Jun, was gone. Reach had fallen.

" _You want to know if we're losing?"_

" _I know we're losing. I want to know if we've lost."_

Shouting in the corridor drew her attention. She got up from her bunk and opened the door, stepping out to track the crew member rushing past, weapon in hand. Were they taking fire? None of the alarms were sounding.

"No! No more tasers, put that away!" Meyers was exclaiming, uncharacteristically frazzled if the tone of her voice was anything to go by.

Briar could see her standing beyond two more crewmen who seemed to be blocking her path as she strained to see around them.

"You're not going to subdue him using force!"

As if to validate her statement, a body came flying out of the open doorway of the quarters the commotion seemed to be taking place within, connecting with the opposite side of the corridor with a thud.

A pit opened up in her gut and she immediately made to retreat back into her room, about a millisecond too late.

"Briar!" Meyers' focus shifted. "We need your assistance before someone is seriously injured."

The likelihood someone wasn't already seriously injured considering the pained grunts coming from the open door seemed slim, and Briar lingered where she was.

"I can make that an order if I have to, Lieutenant," Meyers reminded her crisply.

Stiffening at the would-be rebuke, Briar's eyes narrowed on the woman who held her future in her soft little hands. "Ma'am." She approached the doorway, hand shooting out to grasp the shoulder of the crewman who stumbled back through it, his ass headed for a swift reunion with the deck before she steadied him and steered him aside.

Inside the confines of the sleeping quarters was dark, but it took only a moment for her vision to adjust from the comparatively well-lit corridor. Two more crewmen were crumpled on the floor, one moaning faintly and the other unmoving, taser still clutched in his hand. Unconscious, she judged from the rise and fall of his chest.

Her gaze travelled to the room's lone standing occupant, hunched over and gripping his head as every muscle and tendon stood out down the length of his arms.

"What the hell did you give him?" she questioned before her better judgement took hold.

"An anti-hallucinogen was administered earlier today and he tolerated it well, but the second dose appears to have caused an adverse reaction," Meyers answered from the corridor. "We need to get a sedative into him before he harms himself. I need you to subdue him."

"You're not asking much," Briar muttered as she sized up the situation given this information. "117." It wouldn't hurt to attempt to reason with him, she figured. "Master Chief." Lips thinning when he failed to respond, as expected, she carefully stepped over the two on the floor. "117, it's me." She paused. "Noble Six." It'd seemed to mean something to him on the pelican, and if there was a way to de-escalate things without tangling with him, she didn't give a rat's ass about redactions or her survival status.

Releasing his head, 117 looked towards her, his expression grave. "She's on Meridian."

Briar raised a brow. "Who's on Meridian?"

"Cortana," he supplied. "I have to find her. I have to- I was supposed to protect her."

Stunned by the waves of despair rolling off the 6'10" Spartan in that moment, Briar heard the click of the air cartridge decompressing too late. "No!" She knocked the barrel of the tranq gun just visible in her peripherals aside, but the dart had already plunged into 117's thigh.

He ripped it out and lunged forward and she threw herself in front of the bewildered crewman who'd been given the unenviable task of shooting the Master Chief. The collision drove the breath from her lungs and she staggered backwards, flattening the much slighter soldier beneath her when she hit the deck.

Seeking any advantage she could, Briar twisted and swept one of 117's legs out from under him as she shoved herself back up. She launched herself into his midsection while he was still compensating for the imbalance, throwing all of her weight into the tackle in order to bring him down. They fell hard. Grappling had never been the strong point of her combat skills, and size was certainly not on her side, but she only needed to buy enough time for the sedative to work its magic. Anchoring a leg behind his knee, she struggled to lock her arms around his clavicle and issued a pained hiss when his elbow connected sharply with her ribs.

Far from disabled by her failing choke hold, 117 rolled, slamming her up against the cool metal wall.

Another crewman had stepped into the doorway with a second tranq gun, but the Spartan-II wrenched them both sideways and the dart clanged harmlessly off the wall.

"Stop 'helping'!" Briar barked in frustration as 117 lurched up, getting a knee beneath him somehow. Scrabbling for better positioning, she jammed a foot between his knee and thigh as she felt his hands close around her upper arm and shoulder. He was going to pitch her forward, over his shoulder, and she wasn't sure her leg or her grip would be enough to prevent it from happening. "John," she blurted, not wishing to see him put down by another dart. "Take it easy. Everything's fine." Everything was _not_ fine, but she imagined even in his disillusioned state that 117 was aware of that.

His fingers tightened around her limbs as he prepared to throw her off.

"Tell me about Cortana, John," Briar insisted, bracing herself to hit the deck yet again.

" _Take it, Lieutenant. She has made her choice."_

Her voice dropped, lost in the memory of that moment. "Tell me she was worth it."

An eternity seemed to stretch on before he answered. "She was worth it." 117's hands slackened and slowly fell to his sides.

Briar loosened her own hold, helping to ease him down as the sedative finally kicked in. She disentangled herself from him, frowning at the prone form of the Spartan-II as she got to her feet.

"Lieutenant?" Meyers called from the corridor.

She closed her eyes a moment. It hadn't escaped her notice she was only Briar when they wanted to know how fucked up she truly was; whether she was still operational or not. Still an asset. When they had a task for her, she was once again B312. Lieutenant. Spartan. Noble Six.

"All clear," she said as she gazed down at 117. At John.

Crewmen appeared in the doorway with more tasers.

"Get him to med bay for observation," she heard Meyers order.

Several crew gathered around him, trying to decide how best to lug the Spartan, and Briar felt her anger stir as one prodded him with a foot as though to ensure he was indeed unconscious.

"I've got him, clear out." They shared startled looks at her sudden command, but shuffled aside when she stepped in and bent to lift him. Propping up his upper body, she slung one of his arms around the back of her neck and hefted him up onto her shoulders, legs and back straining as she straightened up.

The trip to med bay was short, fortunately, and Briar stepped back as John was settled onto an examination table.

"We can take it from here, Lieutenant," Meyers informed her, having followed. "Your intervention saved a few broken bones, most likely."

She ignored the praise. "What happens to him now?"

Meyers laid her fingers beneath John's jaw, checking his pulse. "We'll find a better solution for him."

More drugs, then. There hadn't ever really been a question in Briar's mind. "What is it you're trying to fix?" she couldn't help asking with a fraction more censure than she should have allowed to enter into her voice.

Turning to her, Meyers smiled. "I'll see you at 0800, Briar."


	4. Temporary Measures

"I hear you visited med bay yesterday."

"Needed an antibiotic jab," Briar supplied, flashing her bandaged hand as though the reason wasn't obvious.

"Odd. I've known you to sustain much more significant injuries and not seek medical attention." Meyers smiled. "There's no shame in wanting to check up on a fellow soldier, Briar."

"How long do you plan to keep him under?"

"It's just a temporary measure until we can be reasonably certain he won't experience another violent episode."

"Was he violent before you tried to tase him?"

Meyers' brows drifted upwards. "Monitoring equipment alerted us he'd entered into a state of distress. When we arrived to assess him, he resisted. He wasn't coherent." She reached out, manipulating the holo-file hovering beside her, and Briar stared as a video of one of her many 'violent episodes' began to play. "I know you don't want to be reminded, but sedatives were necessary to ensure your wellbeing at one point as well. PTSD often manifests as volatile interludes."

Posture rigid, she tore her gaze away from the holo-vid. She didn't remember most of it. She didn't want to remember.

"Just as we formulated a treatment and rehab plan for you, we will help John through this crisis in the safest manner possible for all involved," Meyers assured, closing the video.

"He didn't appear to be in crisis when I retrieved him from _Infinity_ , Ma'am."

"I thought I was the doctor, Briar."

* * *

She was preparing to return to her quarters to shower when the door slid open.

John walked into the gymnasium, proceeding straight to the treadmill. No delays this time, he started the piece of equipment and once again, stared blankly forward as he ran. Dark circles had blossomed beneath his frigid blue eyes, but he was cleanly shaven and his movements were controlled. Efficient.

Briar approached after a period of silent deliberation. "Pumped you full of happy juice, didn't they?"

His gaze darted sideways to her briefly, but his head never turned.

"Look, I'm sorry about…" How to put it? She'd helped them take him down, however reluctantly.

"Is this where you've been? Since Reach?" he questioned, ignoring her sorely lacking attempt at an apology.

Briar shook her head. "I go where they tell me to go." _Retribution_ had been her base of operations since coming online two years earlier. Before that... she'd been in every backwater the inner and outer colonies had to offer at one point or another.

"Insurrectionists?"

"Sometimes. Mostly all black-ops."

"Same as before, then," he concluded, his pace constant, breathing unaffected.

"Better than before. I don't exist now - officially, unofficially. I'm just a ghost." She glanced to the door. She swept the room for audio and visual plants every time she used it, but there was always the possibility she'd missed one. One would be all it took. "You're not safe here, John. Meyers isn't interested in helping you, she's paid to assess your value. How broken you are and whether it's worth the effort - the risk - to fix you. The moment you cross the line from asset to liability, they're going to burn you. ONI doesn't tolerate threats."

His brow had creased at her words, but he didn't stop the treadmill. "Explain."

"Why do you think Noble Six had to die on Reach? She knew too much. Too much sensitive information. Targets. Identities. All classified. All dangerous. So when I survived, Noble Six couldn't. They buried her. And if I'd given them trouble over it - if I'd done anything different than yessir my way through all those months after they found me, they'd have buried me, too."

This puzzled him, she could tell. "All I've done was my duty."

Briar frowned. "Yeah, but you were supposed to die doing it, like a good Spartan. That's what they want. That's what they've always wanted."

"ONI?"

"Sometimes it feels like everyone. They want us to save them, but they don't want to face us in the cold light of day and know what it took to make us."

John disabled the treadmill, stepping off, his eyes meeting hers. She had no idea what she read in them. He was obviously digesting what she'd said. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked finally.

Gaze drifting up to the ceiling, Briar attempted to articulate that which she barely understood herself. "The best part of me is still on Reach. It never left. It died right along with Noble Six. I don't even know what to call it; hope? Belief? That I was doing the right thing, that I was fighting the good fight. All those kills, all those deaths - there was such a certainty it was necessary." She blew out a short breath. "I don't have that anymore. I point my weapon where they tell me to point it, but I know it's not about saving humanity now, or putting down rebellion. It's all maneuvering, it's all a power grab. We can save humanity from every damn threat in the galaxy, but at the end of it all, what humanity really needs saving from is itself."

"You said I'm a threat. How?"

"You're not a yes man, John." She shrugged. True, she didn't know him, but she knew that much. "And you're the Master fucking Chief. If you ever decided you were sick of taking orders, sick of the suicide runs, your word would hold some major clout."

John shook his head slowly. "My word…? I have nothing to say."

"Yeah, you do. But you'll never say it. And you don't have to. You're a powerful symbol to millions. That's the threat. Millions." Briar waved to encompass the room. "If you're anywhere on board but here, count on being monitored. I check for surveillance equipment daily, but if you have secrets you don't want them knowing, best keep them to yourself. My MJOLNIR records all input. If you get yours back, safest to assume it'll do the same."

"If?" He didn't like the sounds of that, nor had she expected him to.

"As long as you're talking about Cortana like she wasn't terminated on that ship and tossing friendlies around your quarters, they're not putting you back into service. And if they do, it's because they plan to make sure you don't make it back this time." It was the harshest sort of reality check, but Briar wasn't about to dress things up for him. Facts were facts. "I had flashbacks after Reach." She rolled her eyes at herself. "I _have_ flashbacks. They doped me up so bad I don't remember a lot of the first few months after evac. Then they saddled me with Meyers. First assignment out post-recovery I froze up. Took heavy damage. Wounded my target. Mission was FUBAR. It never really got better. I just got better at handling it."

John was silent, his stare penetrating as he towered over her. He looked haggard in that moment. She couldn't blame him, either.

"I'll leave you to it, then."

* * *

" _Better get going, Six, they're gonna need you down there. Listen, Reach has been good to me. Time has come to return the favour. Don't deny me this. Tell 'em to make it count."_

Something heavy banged against her door, and Briar's hand closed around the knife beneath her pillow as she rolled off her bunk. Sleep cycle had begun hours ago and few were walking the corridors. Taking up a position off to the side with her back to the wall, she hit the panel for the door to open and paused in alarm when it revealed John slumped on the deck.

He didn't appear injured, but neither was he conscious.

Checking the corridor swiftly, she crouched to examine him. His skin felt clammy and she struggled to locate a pulse. "John? Can you hear me?" Perplexed, she dropped her head to his chest, but there was no heartbeat. "What did they do to you…" Tossing the knife onto her bunk, she grabbed an arm to drag him into her quarters and immediately began chest compressions. "I need a med team in here!" she called into the empty hallway.

It took a moment, but a bleary eyed crew member appeared in the doorway, mouth dropping open at the scene she was met with.

"Get me a medic, _now_!" Briar turned her attention back to John as the dumbstruck soldier spun and pelted down the corridor, hollering for help as she went. "Wake up, John. Don't give them the satisfaction," she muttered as she worked, willing him to open his eyes. She could see the injection sites riddling his arms. So many. No wonder his heart hadn't been able to take the strain. Chancing a break, she pressed her ear to his pectoral again, dampness causing his thin t-shirt to cling to her cheek.

Several pairs of boots approached at a fast clip as the med team finally arrived, piling into the room. "Sitrep?" one prompted, setting down her go bag.

Briar shuffled back to allow them to take over. "He collapsed outside, no pulse or heartbeat detectable. I've been performing CPR for approximately 4 minutes 30 seconds." She stared as a scanner was pulled out and passed over John's torso.

"I have vitals. They're weak, but there," was announced.

* * *

"I have an incident report here, Lieutenant." Vance flicked his fingers towards the holo-file as he paced before his desk. "Care to guess what it says?"

"That certain med bay staff are incompetent?"

"So you're threatening fellow crew now."

Briar inclined her head. "Since when is telling someone to do their duty a threat, Sir?"

"Are you going to dispute whether your hand was around their throat when you made that statement?"

"With all due respect, 117 nearly died, Sir. They OD'd him."

Vance folded his arms. "From what I understand, it was an episode of cardiac distress brought on by a panic attack, or something of that nature."

Snorting softly, Briar glanced to the report. "That what the file says?"

"It is."

"Understood."


	5. Black Betty

Briar's eyes narrowed on the flashing red panel.

"Access denied. You are not authorized to enter this area," the automated security system informed her.

So that was how they wanted to play things.

Jamming her fingers into the seam, she braced her feet and wrenched the doors apart.

"Breach. Unauthorized entrance detected. Breach. Unauthorized entrance detected."

She could hear alarmed chatter inside med bay as she shoved the heavy metal doors back into the recesses in the frame and stepped through. "Seems there's been a mistake with my security clearance. Shut that thing up. Now," she said to the nearest crewman, who immediately slunk over to the panel to do so.

John was secured to an examination table, steel bands encircling his wrists, neck, ankles, and abdomen. Despite this, his gaze was alert, his head turned side on to observe her irregular entrance.

She hadn't been intending to do more than check up on him, but the sight of one of the staff hovering suspiciously at the foot of the table combined with her revoked clearance didn't inspire confidence in the situation. Stalking over, she grabbed him by the elbow as he tried to back away, and the injector he'd been concealing behind him clattered to the deck.

"You're not approved to be in here," he insisted, summoning up the courage to challenge her.

Brow drawing down, Briar lifted her foot and brought her boot down onto the injector with a satisfactory _crunch_. She released him then and turned to the table, hitting the control to retract the restraints. She offered her hand to John. "How about a walk?"

He hesitated only a moment before clasping her arm, hauling himself upright.

She helped him off the table and together they walked out of med bay.

"How long was I out?"

"This time? 78 hours," she supplied, watching him from the corner of her eye. He was barefoot and bare chested, having been relieved of all but his standard issue boxer-briefs. Stubble darkened his jaw and ugly bluish green bruising signaled that he'd obviously fought against his restraints at some point. He didn't say anything more as she led him back to his quarters. Those crew they passed along the way were wise enough to find anything else in the corridor more interesting than the two Spartans.

Once safely ensconced in his room, John drew out a set of fatigues to don. "What now?"

Briar frowned from where she lingered by the door. "Wish I knew." At best, she was in for a tongue-lashing. At worst…

"Who's in command here?"

"Officially, Captain Bouchart."

Sitting on the bunk, he pulled on his boots. A thin layer of perspiration had broken out on his face thanks to whatever chemicals were coursing through his veins.

"But it's not brass who's calling the shots," she went on. "This deck isn't even included in _Retribution_ 's specs. As far as ONI's concerned, everything that happens here is so far off the record it might as well be in another galaxy."

John stared down at the floor. "I need to get back to _Infinity,_ " he said finally.

"Even if you could, Lasky would be in over his head with this. It wouldn't change a thing, just put him in a tight spot."

"They want to force me to turn on them," he concluded after a lengthy pause, raising his head to meet her gaze. Considering how cognitively impaired the drugs had rendered her, she knew he had to be struggling to make sense of his predicament. It'd been ten days since he'd been brought aboard, and more than half of those he'd been unconscious.

Briar sighed. "Chances are good." If they'd wanted him dead, he would be. The OD hadn't been an accident, but it'd been sloppily performed. Intentionally so. They needed to alienate him from the UNSC in order to make him the enemy.

"And if I don't?"

"I'm not sure you'll be waking up next time, John."

* * *

"Why Betty?"

From her upside down position performing inverted hanging sit-ups, Briar could see John eying up the weathered punching bag. He was slowly coming around, but it'd probably be days before everything they'd injected him with was entirely out of his system. Adjusting her grip on the weight she held to her chest, she smiled faintly.

"Old Earth song, Black Betty. Davis, one of the other recruits, thought it was clever. Betty, Beta..." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "He was pretty thick in the head." Then again, they'd been kids. Just kids in adult bodies. Tightening her abdominals, she curled her torso up towards the bar again. "Every time we demolished another punching bag, he made us listen to that song to christen the new one."

Flashing red emergency lighting sprang to life suddenly, driving the memories from her mind.

"All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill. Repeat: all hands to battle stations," Bouchart's voice sounded over the cruiser's comms.

Briar had dropped down from the bar and chucked the weight aside as she approached the door, John right behind. "I'm not sure they'll let you suit up, but follow me." She wasn't sure, given her stunt the previous day in med bay, that they'd allow _her_ to suit up. It would largely depend upon just what they were facing.

Jogging through the corridors, they passed crew hurrying to their assigned posts. She was half surprised when the doors to the hardware room her combat armor was stored in opened for her.

"Lieutenant-"

"Sitrep," Briar interjected as she began shedding her fatigues, nodding John towards where his own skinsuit hung beside his disassembled MJOLNIR.

"Some kind of explosion, Ma'am, that's all we know," the mech in charge of the armory answered. "But I'm not cleared to arm you."

"You heard the call to battle stations, Warrant Officer."

"Yes, Ma'am, but-"

"You think MJOLNIR are going to do more good in here, in pieces, or out there, on Spartans?" She could read the hesitation in his expression. "You're not gonna stop us, so make yourself useful." Reaching back over her shoulder, she dragged up the heavy-duty composite zipper, sealing herself from the neck down into the multi-layered undersuit.

"Ready to arm on your say-so, Ma'am."

Briar walked onto the pedestal and turned to face the front, extending her arms and spreading her legs. She gave the Warrant Officer a nod and the automated equipment began affixing the titanium alloy components, moving with speed and precision to lock the heavy plating into place. She glanced over as it finished, accepting her helmet from another crewman as John stepped down from the second pedestal, encased in his Mark VI.

He silently took his helmet and donned it before looking towards her.

Unable to help a small quirk of her lips, she set her own helmet in place. "Warrant Officer, the Master Chief requires a weapon."

"Yes, Ma'am."


	6. Two Birds, One Stone

Briar took point as the lift door slid open to reveal a smoke-filled corridor. "Bridge, do we have contact yet?" She wasn't really getting clear input from the comm officer. There seemed to be confusion about what exactly had happened, just that it'd taken place on _Retribution_ 's lowest deck.

"Negative, Lieutenant. Proceed to hangar bay four to investigate origin of detonation."

"Copy that." Navigating the dim halls, she led John to hangar four's blast doors, which had sealed automatically in response to the explosion. They took up positions on opposite sides of the heavy doors and Briar punched in the access code to override the security protocol. More smoke filtered out once the doors had retracted and she waited a beat for enemy fire which never came. She looked across to John and gave the signal for them to enter.

Inside, the air was thick with white haze. Briar followed the perimeter of the bay in one direction while John went the other, MA5Bs to hand. "Bird seems whole," she observed of the pelican in the middle of the bay, not sure what to make of the situation. "What do you see?"

"Nothing."

"No blast marks," she agreed, uneasy. It seemed more like a few smoke grenades had been set off than an explosion. But the bridge should have no issue determining that. Before she could voice her concerns, weapons fire plowed into her shields from behind. Whirling, Briar dropped into a crouch, her own rifle up. "Hold your fire!" Rounds from the UNSC issued weapons were easily discernible on her HUD as they whizzed past - this was not a Covenant attack. "Bridge, we're taking friendly fire - advise crew in the vicinity to stand down." Two more rounds pelted into her, one ricocheting off the titanium plating, the other neutralized by her shields. "Bridge, this is Sierra-312, do you copy?" Retreating to the cover of the dropship, she clenched her jaw. "Sierra-312 to _Retribution_ bridge, can you hear me?"

"Is your comm output damaged?" John questioned from wherever he was.

"Negative, shields are holding. I'm not showing damage."

Apart from the fire they continued to take, silence ensued. She didn't need him to say it. There was no innocent explanation for why the bridge had cut comms with them while they were taking friendly fire.

"We take the pelican."

"That's what they want."

"I won't fire on UNSC soldiers."

"John, they _know_ that."

"We take the pelican, reassess when we're in the clear."

She could see him now, heading for the lowered loading door. "The second we fly out of here, we're frag," she informed him, though it hardly needed voicing. _Retribution_ would blow them into a thousand pieces. They wouldn't be able to outrun the _Autumn_ -class's armament in a pelican.

"Can you override the doors?"

Briar rolled her eyes. "I can if they want me to." Despite her conviction this was suicidal, she broke away from the dropship and headed to the panel which controlled the large airlock doors. Not sure it would do much good, she first closed the blast doors to attempt to give them some relief from those firing on them, but unsurprisingly a few had entered the hangar bay, their rounds still clipping off her armor once the doors were sealed. She frowned at the shield integrity value on her HUD and quickly set the airlock timer to give the crew the opportunity to clear out before they were sucked into the vacuum of space.

"Ten seconds to hangar depressurization. Nine. Eight."

Amber strobes had lit up on the deck to guide the pelican out as warning lights flashed above.

"Seven. Six."

Sprinting back to the pelican, she took a slug to the helmet that snapped her head to the side and depleted her failing shields.

"Five. Four."

Briar fired off a short burst in the direction of her assailants as she reached the dropship, aiming intentionally high. "Go!" she shouted to John, pounding up the ramp.

"Hangar depressurization imminent."

The pelican lifted up from the deck. She hit the panel to close the loading door and turned just as another round punched into her shoulder, causing her to stagger back.

' _Suit breach detected,'_ her HUD informed her, as though the searing pain wasn't evidence enough. ' _Biofoam administered._ '

The pelican banked sharply as they exited the hangar and she replaced the MA5B, fingering the back of her trapezoid and holding her hand up to check for blood. There was none, which meant the bullet hadn't passed through. Something to deal with if they weren't vaporized by an Archer, then. Moving to the cockpit, she slid into the upper seat.

John was piloting them along _Retribution_ 's underbelly, she supposed hoping their close proximity would make targeting more difficult for the cruiser. An alert lit up the display suddenly, informing them of a missile lock.

"I'll fly, you shoot."

Not arguing, he engaged the autopilot and swapped seats with her quickly.

Taking the controls, Briar swung them up around the starboard side of the _Autumn_ -class, practically kissing the Titanium-A hull plating. She could hear John firing the MD railgun in the dorsal turret.

"Slipspace rupture detected," the pelican's warning system sounded.

"What's your game, _Retribution_ …" she breathed, spotting the portal dead ahead. The dropship shuddered as rounds from the MD detonated the missile close enough to their six that shrapnel battered them, causing several more indicators to flash angrily at her. "I still have a missile lock."

"There's another one," John informed her calmly.

"They're not sticking around." The bow of the cruiser had already passed into the rupture. Briar punched the thrusters to 100%, accelerating up around the side of _Retribution_ as it sailed into the Slipstream. At the last possible moment she peeled away from the cruiser, barrel rolling them just wide of the rupture as the stern disappeared, the missile right along with it.

The blaring of warnings filled the cockpit as she levelled out the pelican, slowing them. "We're not looking too hot."

Leaning down, John sized up the display. "Could be worse," was all he said, entirely unfazed.

Briar shook her head and silenced the obnoxious wailing. "I'm not picking up any other ships in the vicinity." She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing at this point.

"You took damage."

She glanced back, noting his visor pointed towards her now. "I'll deal with it." Setting a course for the autopilot, she got up and headed into the cargo hold.

It was as she was digging around in her shoulder for the round, helmet sitting beside the open med kit on the bench, that John joined her. He watched in silence as she struggled with the magnetically tipped forceps, unable to locate the bullet. "You realize they let us live, right?" she pointed out tightly, distracted. For whatever reason, _Retribution_ had allowed them to escape instead of annihilating them. Perhaps to mark them as deserters?

Approaching and taking a knee before her, John held out his hand for the forceps, and Briar passed them over. She couldn't see shit from her angle anyhow.

Fingers curling over the edge of the bench, she pushed the pain to the back of her mind. "I hope you have some clue what comes next, because we've got no slipspace drive and about enough supplies for a week tops on board." She'd taken stock of their meager inventory while collecting the med kit. Pelicans were not equipped for deep space travel.

"Maybe," he answered enigmatically as he plucked the bullet out, setting the forceps aside and grabbing the canister of biofoam to seal the wound back up. Except his hand froze, the aerosol poised over her shoulder.

"John?" Briar raised a brow when this elicited no response. "John," she repeated, reaching for his helmet.

The biofoam clattered to the deck as he snagged her arms the moment she gripped his helmet.

"Easy. It's just me," she assured, staring at the reflection of her concerned features in his visor. "What's going on in there?"

Prying her hands free, he got up and stood back. "Finish treating that. I have some comms to make." That said, he returned to the cockpit.

Briar exhaled and snatched up the fallen canister, coating her shoulder liberally. She sat back then, allowing her head to rest against the hull as she combed her brain for precisely which moment ONI must have decided she'd outlived her usefulness. When they'd given her the assignment to collect John from _Infinity_ , she'd assumed it was because they felt utilizing a fellow Spartan would put him most at ease, or failing that, she'd have the best possible chance of subduing him if force was necessary. But maybe they'd always planned to burn her right along with him. Or was it because she'd revealed her identity to him? She still didn't know what exactly had compelled her to do that. She'd been tired. Tired of being no one. Tired of _Retribution_ 's crew refusing to meet her eye, as though they feared to actually _see_ her - as though they'd be safer pretending they couldn't. Tired of being a ghost.

Would she have been able to stand by and let them ruin him? Sully his sacrifices? Perhaps that's what they'd been counting on - that she had a shred of honour left.

It was as she was pushing some of the hair that had escaped her bun out of her eyes that something caught her attention. A small flap of white fabric protruded from one of the closed overhead storage bins which usually held extra gear. Brow furrowed, she slid off the bench and grabbed the M6C from her thigh as she walked towards it. She'd no sooner depressed the button to release the compartment than a body spilled out, catching on the latch and dangling upside down limply. The white lab coat and red tresses made her easily recognizable.

"Meyers…" Briar replaced her weapon and lifted the doctor down, laying her on the deck. She didn't bother checking for vitals. Meyers's lifeless stare and bullet riddled chest told her all she needed to know. She gently drew the woman's eyelids down and took her helmet from the bench, heading to the cockpit. "I just found Meyers's body in one of the overheads. My guess is we'll take the heat for it."

John's head turned slightly before he looked back to the controls. She noted his hand curl into a fist in his lap, but he said nothing.

"I hope your maybe has turned into something more definitive." Her chest was beginning to tighten as the gravity of the situation sank in. They were well and truly fucked.

"It has."

"Care to explain?"

Before he had the opportunity, however, a new alert leapt onto the pelican's display. It showed an incoming vessel with an enemy signature. The comm chimed that they were being hailed and John hit the panel to open a secure channel.

"Demon," a deep voice rumbled over the speaker. "This is _Unwavering Courage._ Permission to dock has been granted. Sending landing procedure now."

"Transmission received," John replied as he opened the transferred schematic, simultaneously closing the comm channel.

"That's a Covie ship," Briar said carefully, taking in the map of the vessel which showed them where to dock.

"It was." Disengaging the autopilot, he turned them to a heading which would intercept with the alien ship.

Sitting in the upper seat, she digested this information. "Swords of Sanghelios?"

He gave a nod.

"I take it this is a bad time to tell you I was briefed on an op to eliminate Thel 'Vadam."

John's helmet turned towards her again, more sharply this time. It was impossible to read his reaction, apart from it being one of surprise.

Briar looked down to her own helmet, which she still held. "I was pulled from it to join Noble before it was green-lit." She didn't know what had happened afterwards. The Arbiter was alive. So either whoever ONI had replaced her with had failed, or they'd killed the mission.

"We were enemies once." John's attention returned to piloting the pelican towards the corvette-sized ship now looming before them. "Arbiter understands that."


	7. Generous Offers

"You will disarm, humans."

Briar's finger was itching on the trigger of her MA5B at the sight of so many Elites arranged outside the docked pelican, carbines and plasma rifles trained on her. Beside her, John held his assault rifle as well, though his stance was perhaps more relaxed than her own.

"Throw down your weapons!" one of the Sangheili bellowed, causing his compatriots to tense further.

"Peace, brothers," another announced from the back of the hangar after a door had opened to admit him. The gathering broke apart uneasily to allow him through, though their weapons remained up. Coming to a halt at the foot of the loading ramp, this new Sangheili looked between them. "Which of you is the human who fought beside Kaidon 'Vadam?"

"I am," John answered.

Briar could hear the hushed mutters of 'demon' which passed through the group.

"What business have you with him?"

"That's for him to know."

Some of the Elites snarled at this response, their mandibles spreading in a display of aggression.

"You show great impudence," the Sangheili in command commented, his gaze speculative. "You will disarm and wait in the brig while we establish contact with the Kaidon and determine if he wishes to hear of your business."

Something felt very off. Then again, Briar hadn't had many close encounters with Sangheili since Reach, and she acknowledged a predisposition to mistrust the other species, who'd always been enemies in her eyes. It was difficult to view the Elites crowded before them, weapons brandished, as anything remotely resembling allies. She'd nearly died at the hands of their brethren. Beta company, Noble team…. so many others. All gone. All fighting the Covenant.

John was evidently deliberating the situation as well. "We'll keep our weapons and wait in the dropship," he countered finally.

This elicited louder grumbling and posturing from the Sangheili, until their commander held up his hand to silence them. "Should you exit your ship before you are permitted, we _will_ destroy you, Demon."

Briar stepped back, retreating into the pelican as John did the same. She hit the panel to raise the loading door but kept her MA5B at the ready until it had fully closed. "That went well." She turned to find John returning his weapon to his back. "And if he won't speak to you?"

"He will."

"You think he's going to help? Because I guarantee you ONI labelled you a defector the moment you set foot on this bird, and from what I hear, the situation on Sanghelios is chaotic." The once Arbiter, now Kaidon, had his hands full with a civil war involving the Sangheili who didn't support his plans for an alliance with the UEG and another with the Covenant-remnant forces. That wasn't even taking into consideration the Jiralhanae. 

John regarded her a beat before moving towards the cockpit. "Then maybe I help make it less chaotic."

Stunned by the resolute statement, Briar stepped into his path. "That's it? You just dive feet first into another war? That's your solution?"

"I'm a soldier," he supplied as he drew up short of bowling her over, as though this explained everything.

"But that's not _all_ you are. That's not all we are, John." She wasn't holding her breath on a response, so when he silently bypassed her and disappeared into the cockpit it wasn't much of a shock to be left standing there alone with her MA5B and a ship full of Elites just outside, waiting for an excuse to spill their blood.

* * *

The footage was… convincing, there was no denying it. As entirely taken aback as Briar was, it wasn't at the realization ONI would go to such elaborate lengths to set them up - it was at how far back they must have made the decision to do it, while she'd continued taking orders like the good Spartan she was. She had, once again, no idea what John was thinking as he stood beside her on the bridge of _Unwavering Courage_ , his helmet fixed on the forward display as the video looped to again show a broadcasted newsfeed of two people dressed in exact replicas of their MJOLNIR storming into a civilian gathering and proceeding to open fire. By the end of the footage, it was clear there were at least a dozen casualties and several wounded as the caption ' _Rogue-Master Chief indiscriminately slaughters dozens at Biko peace conference. Remains located nearby now confirmed as Ambassador Sekibo'_ scrolled across

"As you can imagine," Thel 'Vadam's voice sounded over the comm, "-these actions are not what one might expect of a warrior of your reputation, Master Chief. Three of my ambassadors were killed and further discord has been sown amongst my kind. The UNSC has branded you a traitor and your government is calling for your capture. Your presence on one of our ships places the Swords of Sanghelios in a precarious position."

Given the video content, she was shocked they hadn't been shot on sight. It certainly went a long way in explaining the hostility with which the _Unwavering Courage_ 's crew had greeted them.

"That isn't us," John asserted, the first hint of indignation she'd ever heard from him tinging his words.

"Do you mean to imply the two portrayed here are pretenders?" 'Vadam sounded skeptical, but didn't wait for John to reply before adding another question. "What reason might there be for such a ploy?"

John shifted his weight, uncharacteristic uncertainty visible in his posture. "I… don't have the answer to that. ONI is trying to frame us." He glanced towards her briefly, then continued. "We've been aboard the UNSC _Retribution_ for the past eleven days. There's no way we would have been able to mount that attack."

"If what you say is true, surely proving your innocence is a small matter. The commander of this ship will swear to your presence there."

"Don't count on it," Briar couldn't help speaking up. "It's an UNSC vessel in name only. The captain, bridge crew, and a good portion of the other hands are all on ONI's payroll. The deck we were segregated to isn't even on the schematics. I've been operating from that ship for close on two years now but you won't find my name on any roster. No one there's going to corroborate anything."

The comm remained silent for some time before 'Vadam spoke again. "This is highly… unusual." He didn't seem convinced.

" _Infinity_ can confirm I collected Sierra-117 from them eleven days ago on orders from ONI. If you run diagnostics on a blood sample from him, you'll find every manner of drug was administered. It's my belief they faked an attempt on his life in order to create animosity and distrust. They then forced us to flee the ship."

A ripple of disbelieving murmurs passed through the bridge crew at her revelation.

"Does your comrade speak the truth?" 'Vadam questioned.

"Affirmative." Briar sensed resignation in that one word. He hadn't spoken of it, of course, but she judged accepting this betrayal had to be one of the more difficult things he'd had to face in his career. "I need to get a message to Captain Lasky on _Infinity_ ," John stated next with determination.

"A request we can assist you with. But I sense not your only one."

"You're fighting a war on two fronts, Arbiter."

"While that is a title I no longer bear, you speak the truth," 'Vadam agreed, not without a trace of reservation.

"You are the reason humans and Sangheili are working towards an alliance now instead of continuing as enemies. If you need my gun to help put down the unrest on your planet, you have it."

While it wasn't what Briar wanted to hear, this veritable speech coming from John did stir something deep inside her. And it was more than respect - he'd always had that. Perhaps envy? That despite what ONI was doing to him, he still seemed to believe there were causes worth fighting for?

"A generous offer." 'Vadam took a moment to consider. "And one which would be foolish to refuse," he concluded. " _Unwavering Courage_ is due to return to Sanghelios to resupply and will transport you here. For now, I believe it would be unwise to disclose your assistance to the UNSC or your government. Perhaps, in time, we might devise a solution to your dilemma."

* * *

It would take a mere thirteen hours in the Slipstream to reach the Sangheili homeworld. The _Unwavering Courage_ 's commander, Shipmaster Kir 'Dossar, assigned them personal quarters for the duration of the journey, but Briar returned to the pelican. There was no way she'd rest easy on the alien ship.

"You've seen better days." She sighed as she examined the damage to the fuselage. They'd been lucky not to lose either thruster. And that none of the sizable chunks of shrapnel embedded in it had fully punctured the airframe. Considering her suit had been breached, that wouldn't have ended well for her.

The hangar doors opened and John strode in. He'd remained on the bridge to send his transmission to Lasky and to be briefed on the situation in Sanghelios as it currently stood. Predictably, he crossed the hangar and boarded the pelican without acknowledging her beyond a slight turning of his helmet in her direction.

Concluding her walk-around, Briar headed inside the dropship and, finding the cargo hold empty, moved on to the cockpit. "So what are we walking into?"

Seated before the flight controls, a diagnostic protocol had been brought up on the display, waiting to be initialized, but John was motionless.

Removing her helmet and setting it in the upper seat, she watched him pensively. "John." When he failed to respond the second time she reached down and wrenched his own helmet off, tracking his movements as his hand reflexively shot down to his magnum. Anticipating the defensive reaction, she smashed the sidearm from his grip with the helmet as he brought it up towards her. "John!"

His eyes were hard as he froze, but she sensed more than that in their depths. Fear?

"John, you're not _well_. You need rest," she insisted, struggling to keep the exasperation she felt from her voice. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on." She'd seen it all before, had been exactly where he was herself.

Turning back towards the controls, he shook his head slowly. "I… can still hear her." Five simple words, but what it took for him to admit them was so much bigger.

Briar didn't need for him to say who 'her' was. He'd formed a strong bond with his AI, that much was clear. Lasky's words, about sacrifices, took on a new meaning. It hadn't just been the blood and the sweat and 40 years of his life. He'd given up much more than that. "I'm sorry, but she's gone." Leaning down, she placed his helmet in his lap. "Once the drugs wear off…" Could she really tell him whatever he was experiencing would stop? "You need rest. What you've been through-"

"I've had worse," he interrupted her, tapping the screen to initiate the diagnostic run.

"No. You haven't." She frowned, reading in the stubborn set of his head that attempting to reason further was pointless. "Don't ignore this. It's going to get you killed." Retrieving her own helmet, she went back to the cargo hold to settle down for the remainder of the trip.


	8. What's Up, Danger

As it turned out, what they'd been walking into was a strategic nightmare.

Sanghelios was a seething, volatile mess. While 'Vadam was a brilliant military leader, just as his ONI file had boasted, his resources were being stretched thin by the simple virtue of fighting two wars simultaneously. Despite this, the Sangheili who supported his bold assertions about humankind being worthy of trust and promoted continuing peace talks were unfailingly loyal and fought with tenacity, no matter whether it was defending their planet from sporadic orbital Jiralhanae assaults or pushing back their Covenant-remnant brethren who relentlessly sought to force them out of key territorial strongholds.

They'd barely arrived planetside before being transported to one such location to nullify an insurgency force which was attempting to commandeer an ammunitions facility the Swords of Sanghelios relied upon heavily. It took seven hours to fully rout the enemy as intense caution had to be employed to prevent the stores of ammunitions from inadvertently detonating. Battling alongside the Elites was a novel and disconcerting experience for Briar. It was nearly as difficult to keep flashbacks of Reach at bay as it was to maintain awareness of who was friend and who was foe in the heat of the moment. Clearing the many bunkers was arduous and nerve racking, with more than a few close calls, and she eventually broke off on her own to more efficiently and safely eliminate targets. Alone, she had more control over the manner of engagement, and one after another, dozens upon dozens of rebel Sangheili fell to her finely attuned combat skill.

The facility had no sooner been safeguarded when a satellite in orbit above the planet abruptly went offline, greatly hampering communications between 'Vadam's disseminated ground forces and throwing them into disarray. By the time word a Jiralhanae executioner-class ship had engaged a carrack ferrying Sangheili loyalists between battlegrounds reached them, the merchant cruiser was already lost. With Fleetmaster Rtas 'Vadum and the _Shadow of Intent_ in the Slipstream in pursuit of the bulk of rebel-leader Jul 'Mdama's reformed Covenant fleet, the decision was made to retaliate before the heavy-destroyer could target further transport ships and 'Vadam requested that John, and by extension she, be among those to join him in the counterattack.

Aboard the phantom which would carry them to the coordinates 'Vadam had provided as a rendezvous point, Briar checked over the type-57 carbine she'd been forced to exchange her MA5B for when she'd run out of ammo. The Sangheili soldiers spoke amongst themselves in their own language while John sat beside her, silent as usual. She did her best to ignore the blue gore coating her armor, focusing only on the fighting yet to come.

"What are you called, human?"

Glancing up, she noted conversation between the aliens had ceased, and all of their eyes seemed to now be resting upon her. "Spartan."

The Sangheili appeared to mull this over. "Spartan is your clan, yes?"

Briar inclined her head, not sure what it was he was getting at.

"I am called Roh 'Charam," he supplied.

She considered this for a moment before turning her attention back to the carbine. "You can call me Lieutenant." She assumed that would be the end of his - their - interest in her, but that wasn't the case.

"You are a skillful warrior, Lieutenant. You and the demon killed many ignobles this day."

"You call him Master Chief," Briar said, her head coming up again to fix Roh with a poignant stare she was sure was felt despite the reflective visor.

He glanced towards John, equally as spattered in the blood of his kind, his yellow-eyed gaze returning to her ultimately. Then he turned once more to his comrades and their discussion resumed in Sangheili.

"Or idiot," she couldn't keep from muttering to herself as she laid the carbine across her lap. His head turned toward her a fraction in response to the not-so-subtle insult and she sat back. "Or jackass." That creature was at least comparatively stubborn.

"I'm not named after landscaping materials."

The comeback was so unexpected, Briar did nothing at first. Once she'd processed the fact John had actually used sarcasm, however, her fist shot out and connected sharply with his ribs. "So you have a sense of humour in there somewhere."

"Not much of one."

She laughed, and the echoing sound inside her helmet was almost foreign to her, it'd been so long. "Agreed."

* * *

They didn't have the firepower to take on the _CPV_ -class heavy destroyer in head-to-head combat, but the two Man O'Wars and the Lich 'Vadam had gathered were assigned to harry the Jiralhanae ship as best they could in order to allow a window for several phantoms and banshees to drop boarding parties.

Theirs was one of the first to successfully reach the target vessel, and Briar leapt off the phantom along with John and their dozen Sangheili allies, rushing to clear the area for further parties to arrive in their wake. By the time 'Vadam's dropship reached them, four of their party were down along with five Brutes.

"Their deaths shall not be in vain," the Kaidon remarked of the fallen as he and his Sangheili Swords approached the blast doors where Briar and the others were awaiting reinforcements before breaching. He looked to John next. "We fight side by side once again, Master Chief."

To her surprise, John held out his hand, and the two clasped arms. "How much time can your ships buy us?"

"Not much more, I fear. We will make our way to the fusion reactors which power the engines and render them temporarily inoperable. I would add this ship to my fleet, if possible."

"So no blowing it up, then?" Briar clarified.

"If possible," 'Vadam repeated, eying her speculatively for a moment before he motioned for them to proceed.

All hell broke loose the moment they pried open the blast doors. Their delay had given the executioner's superiors time to deploy a defensive force to their breach point, and by the time they navigated their way to the junction at which they'd need to choose which reactor to deactivate first, only six of the Swords remained by their leader's side.

"Kaidon, the Lich and one Man O'War have been incapacitated. Shipmaster 'Thuld reports his Man O'War has taken heavy damage and will not endure much longer," one of them reported, obviously keeping track of communications between the vessels.

"And our dropships?"

"All but one have been destroyed."

"Then we must finish this swiftly." 'Vadam turned to John. "We will deal with both reactors simultaneously. Do not permanently damage it if-"

"-if possible," Briar concluded for him, earning a low rumbling growl from the Kaidon. He turned and led the Sangheili in one direction while she and John took the other.

They encountered no less than ten Jiralhanae and numerous Unggoy, but battling in the corridors gave her and John a distinct advantage over the former, whose size made maneuvering in the limited space cumbersome. It wasn't long before the Grunts started fleeing rather than engaging them, not eager to face the same fates their much larger counterparts were meeting. A trail of corpses littered the hall in their wake as they approached the room which housed the fusion reactor responsible for powering the repulse engines on their side of the vessel.

Briar checked the door panel, but it was predictably locked. She looked to John, who stored the energy sword he'd taken off of one of the dead Sangheili and set his hands to the door, forcing it open. Plasma blasts streaked through the widening gap, striking his shielding - which, if anything like hers, was nearly depleted - so she shoved the barrel of her carbine through and returned fire, avoiding the vulnerable reactor.

As soon as the opening was large enough for her to slip through, she did so, shouldering into a Brute who'd been thundering towards them with gravity hammer raised. As he staggered backwards she drove the muzzle of the carbine into his bearded chin and fired off two rounds, using his crumpling body as cover from the weapons of his compatriots.

By this time John had gained access to the area and scooped up the fallen gravity hammer, hurling it into the face of another advancing Jiralhanae. The spiked end drove home and its victim pitched to the deck, limbs spasming.

Briar ducked beneath the swing of a second such weapon, smashing the alien warrior wielding it across the snout with her carbine, which caused the gun to break apart in her hands. Sneering and unfazed, the Brute jerked his hammer towards her in a backswing which she threw herself over, drawing her service knife as she came up from the deck in a roll and plunging it into the unprotected rear of his leg. She ripped the blade down through his flesh before yanking it out. With a roar, he dropped to one knee, and Briar finished him off with three rounds from her M6C, whirling to meet yet another foe as a shudder suddenly rippled through the executioner.

"Any idea what that is?" she questioned as she dispatched the third Brute.

"Plasma lance." John slew the last remaining Jiralhanae and then pulled the switch to power down the reactor before activating the energy sword and driving it into the control panel. "Powered by the reactor in the fore section."

"'Course it is."

"Spartans," 'Vadam's voice preceded him as he and two Swords burst into the room. "I must relinquish this prize. Only one of my ships remain and it is grievously crippled. If the Jir'a'ul are allowed to recharge the cleansing beam, it too will be destroyed, and little will stand in the way of them attacking Sanghelios. We must retreat to an area in which the phantom can retrieve us before Shipmaster 'Thuld rams this vessel."

While Briar could appreciate the Kaidon not wishing to subject his home world to a glassing, an undeniable voice inside her whispered that it would be justice. She pushed it to the back of her mind as she and John followed the Sangheili back towards their boarding point.

The way was clear until they'd nearly reached the hangar bay they'd originally forced their way into. Here, several Brutes had rallied and opposed them, blocking their path.

"Kaidon, Shipmaster 'Thuld insists he must strike now or all is lost."

"Tell him to do as he must," 'Vadam answered with decisiveness as he struck down one of the Jiralhanae.

"The phantom is awaiting us."

"Go," John insisted amidst the flurry of battle. "I'll hold them off, you're needed by your people."

'Vadam snarled. "I do not fear death."

"Understood. Go." John didn't turn to her, but she knew his next words for her nonetheless as they continued to fight. "You too. Your armor's been breached."

"Yours doesn't have a drag-chute for re-entry," Briar shot back even as she drove her elbow into her opponent's side with a resounding _crunch_.

"I'll figure it out."

"I already have. See you planetside, Kaidon," she said to the hesitating Sangheili leader, who looked between the two of them before slipping past the remaining preoccupied Brutes with his two brethren and into the hangar bay.

It wasn't more than a moment later that the executioner quaked violently, tossing them all to the deck, Briar landing with one of the Jiralhanae atop her. She shoved at the burden with a disgruntled grumble, unable to reach her M6C or knife, but the weight was abruptly removed as John hauled the enemy off her.

"Time to go." He grabbed her arm, yanking her back to her feet as the deck lurched at a steep angle beneath them.

They scrambled into the hangar bay as concussive waves continued to wrack the ship, which was flipping onto its side at an alarming rate. There wasn't much time to think, just act. Reaching the energy field which held pressurization inside the bay while allowing dropships to pass into and out of it at will, they launched themselves into the vacuum of space, using their MJOLNIR's thrusters to put some distance between them and the imploding executioner.

Briar's HUD began flashing warnings of her suit's breach immediately. She silenced them as they entered Sanghelios' atmosphere and the planet's gravitational well began dragging them down towards its surface. "John, I don't have much time before I pass out. I'll wait as long as I can to deploy the chute," she informed him, already feeling the effects of the breach as oxygen and pressure were being vented from her suit through the biofoam seal. She used her thrusters to guide her in close enough to grab him. "Don't let go of me." He'd plunge to his death if he did. There would be no way from this altitude that his armor would protect him from the impending impact unless her integrated drag-chute could sufficiently slow their rate of descent. The catch being, of course, that it wasn't rated to support two sets of MJOLNIR.

"Understood," he replied as his arms closed around her torso, hands finding purchase on the back of her armor. It didn't awe her in the least that his voice remained steady despite their predicament.

Grasping his shoulders as tightly as she could, she stared into his visor as tendrils of frost crept in from the edges of her own and her deflated lungs began to burn. Unprotected exposure to space had been part of their training program, and as such she knew she could remain conscious for at least 60 seconds utilizing only the oxygen in her bloodstream. She wouldn't survive anything past 2 minutes, however. And if she deployed the chute before they'd passed beneath the appropriate layer of atmospheric gas, it would burn up before it could slow them enough.

Briar waited until darkness tinged her peripherals, trying to brace for the jolt of the drag-chute snapping tight, her fingers cramping from the strain of gripping John's armor. The last thing she saw before her vision failed was the warning on her HUD which indicated their rate of descent wasn't diminishing quickly enough.


	9. Pulling Rank

"Where am I?"

The abrupt demand seemed to startle the man standing across the room from the bed Briar had awoken in. She could make no sense of what had happened, or why she was inside what appeared to be a rudimentary stone structure.

"Ah, you're awake. Have to say, I wasn't expecting that," he admitted as he approached, wringing his hands. His auburn beard and hair looked as though they could use a trimming, but he didn't seem overly old.

"Sorry to disappoint. Where am I and who are you?"

"Vadam Keep in Yermo province. Um, Sanghelios, but I think you probably guessed that much since you apparently crash landed on it - or something of that nature." He shifted to rubbing the back of his neck. "And I'm Dr. Phillips. Only, not this sort of doctor." Here he gestured to her prone form in the bed.

Briar had raised a brow at his rambling, but said nothing as she pushed herself up to her elbows, trying to ascertain what her injuries might be.

"How are every single one of your bones not broken?" Phillips questioned, brow creased deeply. "I mean, I saw them prying you out of that armor - and the tall guy said something about an atmospheric insertion?"

What was this guy's deal? "The tall guy," she repeated dryly.

"He's, uh, the Master Chief, right?"

Briar rolled her eyes and wriggled her toes and fingers to ensure everything was still functioning as it should before sitting up fully. "What kind of doctor did you say you were?" She was sore, that was for sure. Probably had some bruised ribs and other contusions.

"I didn't, but I'm a professor of xenoanthropology, mostly with a focus in linguistics," Phillips supplied, taking a step back as she swung her legs out over the side of the bed. "Should you be doing that?"

"Where's he to now? The tall guy."

Glancing towards the door, he wrinkled his nose. "No idea. He left with the Kaidon."

Briar ignored him as she prodded her wounded shoulder. Exposure to the vacuum of space and a fall from orbit hadn't done it any favours, but her skinsuit appeared undamaged. Of her Mark VII MJOLNIR, there was no sign, and her gut clenched at the thought it might have been ruined beyond repair by the impact. Getting to her feet, she took a moment to assess what precisely hurt, how much, and whether walking would make it worse.

"Are you, ah - do you need anything?"

"Like what?"

"I… have no idea, to be honest. You're not in shock or anything?" Phillips frowned. "Does that even happen to you? Spartans, I mean?"

_Now_ he was beginning to bother her. Deciding she would risk walking just to get away from his obtuse blathering, she carefully headed out through the door.

While the room had been sparse, with nothing much of note apart from the bed and what had appeared to be a storage chest of some sort and small table, the corridor outside was much more ornate. Carven pillars supported the soaring arched ceiling from which intricate lighting fixtures hung, casting strange patterned shadows onto the tiled floor. Sangheili garbed in robes and tunics of rich iridescent fabrics passed between the pillars in groups of two and three, conversing, and having never before observed the alien species without battledress, Briar couldn't help staring for a moment.

"Not too many humans have ever seen this place," Phillips remarked from behind her. "Consider yourself lucky."

"What are you, then?"

"Me? Oh, I was invited to study Sangheili architecture and history by Kaidan 'Vadam. It's been an honour, as well as immensely enlightening." He noticed some of the Sangheili now looking their way. "They don't know what to think of you, probably. They're used to seeing me around now. Well, mostly."

Briar snorted at this. "Right." She was more than accustomed to the blatant gawking by now, and she'd just been doing much the same to them, so she turned her attention back to figuring out exactly what the hell had happened between when she'd deployed the drag-chute and now. "Do you know how long I've been out?" she questioned.

"No, not really. They brought you in here a while ago."

So helpful. "What's a while; one hour? Two?"

Phillips shrugged slowly. "About that, yeah. Two hours."

"You said you're familiar with this place, so where am I most likely to find 'Vadam?"

"I don't think you're supposed to-" he broke off as she turned to face him. Not being a man of overly large stature, he was forced to crane his neck to meet her gaze.

"Don't think, just tell me," Briar instructed him, patience wearing thin..

Skirting around her, he motioned with his hand. "It's, ah - this way."

She followed him through the vast chamber, passing by a grid of raised platforms at its centre where several adolescent Sangheili sparred. Some of them paused to watch hers and Phillips' passage, but an adult in what appeared to be ceremonial armor shouted at them, and Briar didn't need to understand what he was saying to know they were being berated for their lack of focus. She and her fellow recruits had been on the receiving end of just such scolding on more than one occasion during their own training. They entered an area of more functional design yet again, with lower ceilings, and proceeded along a hallway, turning a corner to find two guards stationed outside a set of heavy and aged wooden doors.

Before Briar could decide what it was she would say to get them to allow her inside, where hopefully 'Vadam - and even John - were, Phillips floored her by opening his mouth and speaking to the Sangheili in their own tongue. Then again, he had mentioned a focus in linguistics. She wasn't thinking as clearly as she should be. One of the perks of losing consciousness due to oxygen starvation.

It took only a few exchanges before one of the guards pulled open a massive door.

"Best of luck," Phillips offered with a sweep of his hand that Briar paid little mind.

Inside the triangular shaped room, three Sangheili stood around a large holo-table, above which an image of a fourth was being projected. This one she recognized as Rtas 'Vadum owing to his missing mandibles, but the others she had difficulty identifying as they wore casual dress. She got the feeling she'd interrupted a meeting of some kind since all heads turned in her direction, including John's. Shockingly, he too had divested of his armor, wearing only his undersuit as she did.

"Kaidon?" 'Vadum questioned, obviously wondering what the shift in their focus was about.

"Continue, Fleetmaster," 'Vadam insisted from his position beside John, the first to return his gaze to the holo-comm.

"'Mdama's fleet have broken apart and are fleeing in several directions, cowards that they are. We continue to pursue his ship."

"It may be that you are required to return, brother. The Jiralhanae are becoming brazen in their assaults. We lost two Man O'Wars and a Lich this day, and many brave soldiers."

"We are close to eradicating this traitor, Kaidon. Allow me to end the needless conflict between our people by wiping this filth from very existence."

"While I welcome the day Sanghelios is once again united in mind and spirit, we must not forget to do so we must end all conflicts, and not just those amongst our own kind," 'Vadam reasoned. "Crush 'Mdama if you are able, but be attentive if you should be called to return home, knowing that I do not pull you from your hunt without it is with urgent need."

"Of course, Kaidon."

"Honour and glory guide you."

"And you."

As the holo-comm collapsed, 'Vadam gestured to dismiss the two Sangheili at his side, who silently stalked out of the room, passing by Briar as they went.

"Your resilience is admirable, Spartan female," he commented when only the three of them remained. "I am once again impressed by the obstinacy of your kind in accepting defeat in any of its many forms."

"We generally prefer life over death," she replied with a shrug which reminded her such movements were superfluous with a shoulder injury. "Where's my MJOLNIR?" She inwardly sighed at herself when the Kaidon's eyes narrowed slightly in lack of understanding. "Armor."

"So eager to return to the fight?" 'Vadam sounded amused. "Unfortunately, both your armor and your comrade's sustained extensive damage. My engineers are making repairs as we speak."

Briar glanced to John, who had crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to them. She got the feeling he was about as pleased as she was at the thought of Sangheili mechs pawing their gear, but the damage had to have been extensive indeed in order for him to have agreed to relinquish it.

"Rest assured, the moment it is once again serviceable, it will be returned to you. For now, however, you must excuse me. There are matters I must attend to." Rounding the holo-table, 'Vadam approached the doors. "You have access to the majority of the keep. Evan Phillips is familiar with its layout and can show you anything you might wish to see. Please enjoy my hospitality in gratitude for your help in battle." That said, he left the room, the two guards who had stood sentry outside falling into line behind him.

"You're uninjured?" John asked.

"Close enough to it." She took in the peculiar antechamber, which reminded her somewhat of a war room. The heads of multiple alien beasts had been mounted on the walls as trophies, ancient looking maps stretching between them. "What happened after I blacked out?"

"We hit hard. You were unresponsive. 'Vadam advised his ground forces to keep an eye out for our re-entry and they comm'ed the coordinates to a phantom for evac." All of this was stated in his usual impassive tones.

Briar gave a nod. Trading two Man O'Wars, the Lich, and all those who had fallen to take out the Jiralhanae ship certainly reeked of one step forward, two steps back. They'd secured the ammunitions facility, at least.

"What did you do?"

The question caught her off guard at first. "What do you mean?"

John's head cocked to one side fractionally. "At that rate of descent, the impact should have done more damage."

"More?" She raised a brow. "Your armor's gotta be inoperable or you'd still be wearing it."

"I'm not talking about that. We should both be injured. Something absorbed at least part of the collision force."

"I shaped my energy shield into a barrier. Rerouted all the suit's power to bolster it once the chute was deployed." She'd never utilized it in such a manner before and hadn't been certain it would encompass them both fully, or whether it would do much. Evidently, it had.

John continued to study her for several moments before dropping his arms back down to his sides. "Next time, you let me handle it."

"Doubtful." Briar's lips pulled up into a smirk. "Last time I checked, I outrank you."


	10. My Demons

" _We can get past it, Sir."_

" _No you can't. Not without help."_

" _Commander, you don't have the firepower!"_

" _I've got the mass."_

" _Solid copy. Hit 'em hard, boss."_

" _You're on your own, Noble. Carter out."_

Running her hands over her face, Briar got out of bed. There'd be no rest for her that night. Too many images crossed the back of her eyes when she closed them.

She headed out into the sweeping chamber, glad to find it devoid of Sangheili owing to the late hour. Wandering amongst the pillars, she eventually made her way to one of the raised platforms. Here, at the centre of the chamber, the ceiling had been left open to the elements. Tipping her head back, she looked up to the dark sky above. It took Sanghelios 29.5 hours to complete an axial revolution, and the majority of those hours were daylit. Because of this, the planet's inhabitants had evolved to require less sleep than humans. Thanks to Phillips' incessant chatter, she now knew this. And thanks to the rigors of the Spartan-III program, she too could function off less sleep. Sometimes that felt like a curse rather than a blessing when her mind would not quiet, however.

"You should be resting," John spoke up as he stepped onto the platform as well.

She hadn't heard him coming, distracted by her thoughts as she was, but she didn't start just the same. Spartans weren't startled. "That's a no-go." She glanced to him pointedly, but he was too busy taking in the view of the night sky to acknowledge the unspoken counter. Despite the fact the drugs ought to have been metabolized by his system - or near enough to it - by now, his eyes were still shadowed by dark circles. The stubble along his jaw had also thickened, adding to his drawn appearance. "When's the last time you slept, John?"

"I'm fine."

Rolling her eyes, Briar turned towards him. "None of this is fine. You're pushing yourself too hard."

"That's what I was made to do."

"Stop - do you even hear yourself? You weren't 'made', John. They didn't make you, they trained you." She shook her head. "Look, I've heard things - about what they did to you guys, about the program. I don't know what's true and what's not. And I'm not asking you to tell me. But I know what _I_ went through, and it was… we were kids. We'd lost our families, our homes - we had nothing. Nothing but pain until ONI sent in their recruiters in their flashy uniforms and offered us what they knew we all wanted, what we all needed; revenge. And they took us, and they used that pain - they turned it into hatred. Hatred for the Covenant. And determination to do whatever it took to make sure no one else ever lost what we had lost. I believed I was doing the right thing, and I believed I was doing it for humanity. Then they pulled me from the program right before Operation: Torpedo, and they sent 300 of my brothers and sisters - the only family I had left - into a fight they knew they weren't coming back from. And they called it a victory. We were still kids. 12, 13 years old. I was one of the oldest - 15. Now I'm one of the only ones left."

John had continued to gaze skywards at first, but at her mention of the Pegasi mission, his eyes had travelled down to meet her own.

"You've lost brothers and sisters, too," she said gently.

"Yes."

"You were kids, weren't you?"

"Yes." There was no resentment in his voice. No anger. But there was grief lurking in the depths of his blue eyes.

Briar reached up, laying one of her hands against his stubble-roughened cheek. There weren't any words she could use to ease that grief. It was a sorrow he'd endured for most of his life, and she knew from personal experience nothing could take it away.

He stood still, regarding her with a level intensity which seemed reserved for use by him and him alone. If there were such things as souls, and if she was possessed of one, he could surely see it. However, far from soul searching, she got the sense he was instead trying to decide what to make of her simple touch.

"Don't," she advised him with a hint of a smile.

This caused his brow to furrow. "Don't what?"

"Analyze it." Scraping her fingers lightly over his jaw, she inclined her head. "You need to shave, Master Chief. You're looking scruffy."

"Sangheili don't appear to grow facial hair," he surprised her by answering, she supposed to indicate there weren't any shaving implements available for use.

"Lucky them."

John seemed to be considering something still. "Beta company - their lives were spent. Not wasted."

"Mendez." Briar could still hear the Senior Chief explaining away Alpha company's total loss - another victory in ONI's eyes. So his excuses had been as recycled as everything else in the program. "Maybe they were. But it still hurt." She'd never admitted that to anyone before. There'd been no one to admit it to after Torpedo. Lucy and Tom were still in service somewhere, but running black-ops both before and after Reach, she'd never come across either of them. And Kat…

When John's thumb brushed her cheek, she was pulled from her head once again, a little chagrined that she seemed incapable of staying focused that night. She was about to ask him what he was doing when she realized he was just mirroring her actions. Her own hand drifted down to rest on his chest as he ran the pad of his thumb across the scar marking her cheek bone - a memento she'd received when her visor had been split on Reach by one of the Elites. Everyone had already been gone by then. Everyone but her.

Grasping his much larger hand with hers, she turned her face into his palm, seeking the comfort she knew he wasn't certain how to offer. Craving human contact in that moment of weakness.

He was patient, indulging her despite his obvious inexperience with such matters. And by virtue of his solid presence, standing before her in silent testament to the fact even though ONI had taken everything from her, she was not alone, not right now, she did feel less forlorn.

"Goodnight, John," she said as she released him and then returned to her room. It was as she was closing the door that she heard 'Vadam's voice echo through the chamber outside.

"The female is a deft warrior," he said. "Many who fought beside her at the ammunition facility spoke of her prowess."

"She's a Spartan," John replied, neither agreeing with or disputing the assessment.

"Indeed. She would make a worthy mate. Your offspring would surely be fierce, and would bring honour to your clan."

It took a while for John to respond this time, and Briar couldn't imagine what must be going through his mind following the unusual remark. She didn't even know what was going through her own mind.

"That's not how it works."

"Is it not? I have observed that you humans take mates in order to reproduce."

"Yes," John confirmed, though the awkwardness with which he expressed that one word nearly had her laughing. She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but seeing as the conversation seemed to involve her, what was the harm?

"How then am I mistaken?" 'Vadam paused. "Is she not desirable as a mate?"

"When will our armor be functional?" John was done with the peculiar conversation, it seemed.

"My engineers assure me the repairs will be complete soon."

"How soon?"

"Evan Phillips tells me your clan takes its name from an ancient warrior people who perished in battle defeating an enemy which greatly outnumbered them in order to defend their lands and offspring. The female claimed Spartans prefer life over death, and yet you take no joy from it. You seek no mate, you sire no young. What then do you rush towards death to protect?"

"Humanity."

"To protect one's species is an admirable pursuit," 'Vadam acknowledged. "But we must seek purpose in the moments between battles as well. To expand one's understanding of the universe, to make strategic alliances, to create a legacy which is worth leaving behind - all are of value."


	11. A Voice No Longer There

Briar wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but to find her MJOLNIR in working order was an immense relief. The Sangheili had not only repaired the titanium plating by grafting their own high-tier nanolaminates onto the damaged portions, they'd also restored function to the operating system. She fingered the smooth black 'welds' where the nanolaminate had been used to seal cracks in the titanium which would have compromised the armor's integrity.

"I am assured it is once again as resilient as it was before," 'Vadam commented as he watched both she and John inspect the unconventional patches.

Well, there was only one way to truly test that claim. And she had a feeling they'd see more action soon enough.

"There was one thing my engineers discovered which gave them pause."

Briar glanced back to him at this. The idea of those fixing her armor being stumped by something did not fill her with confidence in their work.

"A file present on only one of your suits, which seemed to have a very specific set of criteria in order to be activated." 'Vadam gestured to one of the Sangheili mechs standing next to the holo-table their MJOLNIR rested upon. Without further prompting, he opened what Briar assumed must be said mystery file.

"John…. Can you hear me, John?" a female voice echoed eerily through the room. "Chief, please… if you can hear me… I need your help."

"Shut that off," Briar snapped, her heart in her throat as she witnessed John's body become instantly rigid.

The mech complied when 'Vadam nodded his consent.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"I might ask you the same thing as it was hidden within the base protocols of your own armor and seemed programmed to transfer as audio output to his when you were within close proximity to one another," the Kaidon responded with purpose. "Or so it has been explained to me."

This stunned Briar. "What?" She didn't even know who that voice belonged to. Speechless, she turned to John for clarification. "I have no idea who or what that is."

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he stared down at his helmet, which he held in his hands. "Cortana."

"Your AI? I don't understand."

"It is an audio file, nothing more. Certainly nothing as complex as artificial intelligence. But perhaps… a cruel trick to give the illusion of one," 'Vadam reasoned into the silence which ensued.

Nausea rolled over her in waves as the realization of what had been done dawned on her. ONI. They'd planted the file on her armor. They'd maliciously planted a recording of his AI to torment him. "When was it put there, can he tell?"

The Sangheili leader looked to his engineer, who in turn began to examine the file using the holo-table.

"The day before they assigned me to get you from _Infinity_ ," Briar concluded as the origination date was displayed. So they'd used her, right from the very start. They'd used her to begin manipulating him. To hurt him. "Is there anything else? Anything at all that doesn't seem like it should be there?"

"Nothing which we can detect." 'Vadam was considering her. "I take it, then, you deny all knowledge of this?"

"I do, but it makes no difference. I can't prove I didn't know. The armor is mine. Others had access to it when I wasn't wearing it, to make repairs and monitor the systems for efficiency." She shook her head, disgusted with herself. How had she ever convinced herself that as long as she kept her head down and followed orders, completed the missions too controversial and filthy for the public eye, that everything would be fine? She'd allowed them to make her their instrument of death. And it caught her off guard that they'd use her to get to John? When had she become so wilfully ignorant?

"What would you have done with her?" 'Vadam questioned, his reptilian gaze now resting on John.

Setting the helmet back onto the holo-table, he turned to walk from the room. "Nothing."

They all watched him leave.

"I have no wish to count you amongst my enemies, female Spartan. They are many and I tire of the spilling of blood." 'Vadam's four digits curled into a fist. "But if I should learn of further treachery on your part, I will not tolerate your presence in my keep any longer. There is no place for those without honour here."

"Understood." Briar couldn't blame him. It looked how it looked. Which was bad. She took one last look at her MJOLNIR and left, before she did something foolish like attempt to smash it into a thousand pieces. Everything ONI had ever touched, they'd broken or corrupted. Why her amor should be any different, she didn't know. It was all tainted. _They_ were all tainted.

There was nowhere to go but back to her stark little room. But upon entering, she froze, spotting John. His back was to the doorway, which in and of itself was a disturbing sight. Spartans kept all entry and exit points in their line of sight if at all possible. It was one of the first combat lessons she'd been taught, with good reason - it was detrimental to one's health to give the enemy any opportunity to take you unawares. Still, she could tell by the way his shoulders tensed and then dropped that he was aware of her presence. Reaching out, she pushed the door shut, then went to the bed and sat down. He had something to say to her, or he wouldn't be there. She waited.

"If you'd been ordered to kill me, you could have before now," he stated when he was ready.

"Yes."

"That's not what they wanted."

"No," Briar had to agree. She assumed they'd suspected such an order would create a moral quandary for even her.

He was attempting to piece it all together, to figure out whether she was in on it or not. So much of what had transpired - directing him to use her gymnasium, calling her in to help when the drugs made him violent, even the OD - all seemed so transparent now as ploys to induce her to form a personal stake in what happened to him. And she'd wanted it - that bond, that sense of devotion to a common goal she hadn't known since Noble team. She'd wanted him to trust her. She'd told him things she'd never said aloud to another living being. So naive, even after all these years.

"If you want me to leave, I will." It was the only thing she could offer him. There would be no explaining how or why everything that had happened had. It was all so convoluted, all just theories, none of it confirmable. But she could go and not trouble him further.

Turning towards her, John's jaw tightened. "No," he said. "That's not what I want."

"What do you want?"

"Purpose."

Briar wished she hadn't overheard his conversation with 'Vadam now. Given what had been discovered, it just felt like another betrayal on her part. "I think we all want that."

Of everything ONI had done to him, taking away that purpose was perhaps cruelest of all. They'd raised him, trained him, augmented him to be a shield to put before humanity. It was all he and so many other Spartans had ever known. Fighting. Sacrificing. It was little wonder he'd thrown himself into the Kaidon's war without a second thought. What else was there for him now that he'd been branded a traitor by those who owed everything to him, and whom he'd served tirelessly all those years with nothing but loyalty?

"When I die… I won't let it be a waste," he insisted with that steel edged determination she was coming to associate with him and only him. Had it really only been twelve days since they'd met?

"I know."

* * *

They fought.

For 78 hours straight, they went from battleground to battleground - some little more than skirmishes with disjointed rebel factions, some full scale warfare involving banshees, scarabs, and entire companies of ground forces.

When it was all said and done, one stronghold remained to the Covenant-remnant Sangheili; the city of Sunaion. At is turned out, far from fleeing, 'Mdama's fleet had broken apart in order to escape the _Shadow of Intent_ and return to Sanghelios to fortify their defenses in preparation for one final and decisive battle. The ship Fleetmaster 'Vadum had eventually overtaken and destroyed had been nothing more than a decoy, with 'Mdama not even counted among those onboard, as was later discovered. Now, his entire complement of ships, warriors, and weapons had been consolidated - a formidable force which outnumbered their own at least twice over.

Despite this, 'Vadam was preparing to strike, insistent that the continuation of conflict would only harm the Sangheili further. In order to be able to turn their sights to thwarting further encroachments from the Jiralhanae once and for all, he believed they first needed to deal with 'Mdama and unite their kind to a common cause - the protection of their homeworld. Which Briar couldn't disagree with. Having their attention split between two enemies was whittling away what supplies and personnel the Swords of Sanghelios possessed while earning precious little significant gain in return.

The strategy 'Vadam put forward was sound and feasible, if ambitious. It would require discipline and coordination from air and ground forces, and rely heavily upon a small incursion party consisting of the Kaidon himself, her, John, and two other Swords. She was surprised at first that he'd chosen to include her given his newfound distrust of her, but before she could question the decision, he made it abundantly clear that it was John's judgement he was basing it off of. The attack would commence just before dawn, affording them all a few hours much needed rest. The _Shadow of Intent_ was rushing through slipspace, but would not reach them in time to join the battle until the very pivotal moment in which 'Vadam's plan either won or lost them the day - perhaps the entire war.

Back on board the _Unwavering Courage_ , Briar eyed the repairs which had been made to their liberated pelican. The patchwork hull looked dubious, but then again, her MJOLNIR had held up impressively well during the past few days. She gave the dropship a gentle thump with her fist as she headed up the ramp, figuring it'd be a miracle if the thing made it out of what was to come in one piece. Inside the relative solitude of the cargo area, she sat to disassemble and check over her M6C. She had few magazines left for the weapon at this point, but it was still a vital tool at close range, so she made certain it was in good working order. The familiar motions settled her mind, as much as it could be. She hadn't had much opportunity to speak with John since the fighting had ratcheted up. It had been his call to have her along on the incursion team, but she still got the feeling he didn't know what to make of her presence, and she wouldn't push him on the subject. The audio file of his AI implanted on her armor explained some of his behaviour - the lapses in focus had obviously been brought on by the, from his point of view, inexplicable voice - but she wasn't convinced there wasn't more going on with him. His determination to die fighting a worthwhile cause was one she understood all too well, though her jaded outlook now questioned if there even was such a thing. On Reach, she'd had that conviction. And while she knew now it invariably would have made no difference to the outcome of the planet's demise, she still felt she would have been better off dying there. Believing she was doing something right.

Turning at the sound of footfalls on the ramp, she watched John enter the pelican. He paused a moment and then hit the control to raise the door, walking to the bench opposite hers and taking a seat as they were sealed in.

"We reach the drop point in 2 hours."

Briar gave a nod, her attention returning to fitting her sidearm back together, her movements automatic and fluid.

"They're going to come for us."

She nodded again. Chances were, they already had. Chances were, they were closing in. The Sangheili mechs had disabled all transmitting signals on their armor, but she was under no illusions about ONI knowing exactly where they were. Clipping the M6C back to the mag plate on her thigh, she sat back and looked across to her reflection in his visor.

He regarded her in silence for a while, then reached up and took his helmet off. He rested it on his leg, a hand holding it in place as he stared towards her.

Briar examined the dark circles beneath his eyes which hadn't diminished much despite the fact the drugs must surely now have passed through his system. He seemed to have both aged and yet not in the short time she'd known him. The stubble darkening his jaw was flecked with the same silver as the hair at his temples and the lines bracketing his eyes and mouth never seemed to smooth, as though behind the visor, his expression was one of constant determination. She almost snorted. She could believe that, actually. Giving in to the moment, she tugged her own helmet free, laying it on the bench beside her. His gaze seemed to sharpen immediately. "What do you see?" she prompted, not certain what sort of answer she expected, if any. He'd been chatty so far, by his standards.

"They can't court martial you if they bring us in," he said finally.

He was right, of course. "They won't bring me in, John." She didn't even have a name and they'd never be able to guarantee her silence on matters they wouldn't wish to see the light of day. Not without a bullet between her eyes. There wasn't a hole deep or dark enough to toss her into now, not alive. But by taking him in as a psych case and then staging his 'escape' and the footage of him indiscriminately mowing down civilians at the peace talks, they'd effectively and preemptively discredited anything he might say. She didn't know what awaited him if ONI got their hands on him again, except that it'd be anything but a fair trial.


	12. I Am Defiant

'Mdama had been prepared. Sunaion was his last bastion, and unlike the resistance that had been thrown up in other areas, here the covenant-remnant Sangheili were heavily fortified. The shrikes their incursion team had gone in to deal with were well protected and fighting their way to the anti-aerospace turrets was a slow slog which threw away all pretenses of stealth. There were simply too many enemies who were too thoroughly armed. And while the shrikes picked off any of their ships which ventured too low in orbit, 'Mdama's own unloaded wave upon wave of phantoms and scarabs to wreak havoc amongst 'Vadam's vulnerable and beleaguered ground forces. Few of his fleet were able to offer air support, as anytime they ran the gamut of plasma blasts from the shrikes and swooped low enough to supply cover fire, they were swiftly set upon by their enemy counterparts.

With only three shrikes offline and a half dozen remaining, Briar did not believe the Swords of Sanghelios had the numbers to hold out. She understood why the Kaidon refused to simply glass the city - an act which surely would have been condemned by his own people - but it was about to cost him everything.

Slamming her foot into the gut of an Elite with arm drawn back, ready to impale her on his energy sword, she fired two quick carbine shots into his face as he stumbled back and then knocked the weapon from his grip with the butt of the rifle before finishing him off. 'Vadam and his two chosen Swords were lost to her sight, but John still battled in her periphery, and she intended to keep it that way. They were approaching the fourth shrike, but as a scarab banked and came around, preparing to strafe the area, she noticed a round pound into it, sending it careening into the ground instead.

"John, that was one of ours," she spoke through the comm link, fending off another enemy as she tried to determine where the shot had originated from. First one, then a handful of pelicans dropped into view, engaging the phantoms and scarabs. What the hell was happening?

" _Infinity_ ," came John's simple and detached explanation.

Unease settled into her stomach. "You sound like you were expecting them."

"I told the Arbiter to offer me up to ONI in exchange for support."

Briar caught a descending swing, the energy sword sizzling against her shields as she heaved the Sangheili's arm back and followed it with fist to his mandibles. The armor meant to protect his face crunched under the impact and teal blood dribbled from his mouth. "That was nice of you." She could also think of a choice few other words for it.

"Lasky warned me there's a fireteam on board tasked with bringing me in."

"Lasky better watch himself," she pointed out. If the Captain enjoyed climbing the ranks better than rotting behind bars, he'd cut all ties with John. "Who did they send?" Using the stunned Elite as a shield, she ducked away from plasma fire, holding his twitching body in front of her as she scooped up his fallen sword and whipped it towards two others advancing on her. It caught one in the chest, sending him to the dirt, and she shoved his comrade at the other before firing off enough blasts to ensure none of them rose again.

"Sierra-117!"

Their skirmishing had brought them closer in proximity, and she turned at the same time John did, spotting the four Spartans fanning out behind them, hemming them in against the as yet operational shrike. Their weapons were up.

"Master Chief, I'm Spartan Locke. I've been sent by the Office of Naval Intelligence to bring you in for questioning."

Briar might have snorted at that if not for the fact their position was anything but amusing. To her left, John remained predictably silent, the energy sword he'd been wielding held down by his side now.

"This is your one chance to surrender and come in peacefully, Sir," Locke went on.

They were saved the need to respond when the battle, which had been conveniently raging on around them, intervened. A missile, which had been locked onto the shrike, was blown up by the turret close enough to make the ground shudder with the concussive force of the explosion, lending she and John the opportunity to dash away as shrapnel rained down around them.

"What do you want to do here?" she questioned as she ran, evading further fire from a scarab screeching past, and shouldering an Elite from her path.

"Distract them long enough for 'Vadam to win this war," he answered, all signs of physical exertion absent from his voice.

Easier said than done. Already, she could glimpse the Spartan fireteam pursuing them. They were agile, smaller and lighter than she and John. Neither had they undergone the same training or augmentations. Spartan-IVs had been ONI's latest and greatest creation, a more economical version of their predecessors who could be produced at a much greater volume and rate. Their GEN2 MJOLNIR was more streamlined and allowed for maximum maneuverability, but was also supposed to make up for the strength and speed they lacked in comparison to the IIs and IIIs. Outrunning them indefinitely was not an option. And neither was using deadly force. They might have been sent to silence her and capture John, but she knew he would never see them as the true enemy. They were following orders.

Fortunately, the turmoil of the ongoing fighting proved to their advantage, offering both plenty of diversions and obstacles for the fireteam to deal with. Realizing it would prove more difficult to keep track of them if they split up, Briar peeled off to the opposite side of the shrike just as a second missile made contact. The blast threw her thirty-some feet and she hit the ground rolling. An alert flashed across her HUD to warn that her shields had been depleted as she pushed back up to her feet. Her carbine was gone, but she wasn't the only one to have lost their weapon. One of the Spartan-IVs climbed over a pile of debris, drawing their M6H2 hastily when they spotted her.

"Stand down," came the command. A male voice, but not Locke's. Did this one know to kill her? Had they all been given that instruction, or had it been reserved for the team leader?

Briar whipped up her own sidearm and fired even as she charged him. She knew his armor possessed shielding, just like her own - but she also figured, like her own, it would have been taken out by the explosion. So she aimed for the hand holding the gun. His reaction time was impressive, but it wasn't equal to hers, and she sensed hesitation. He did get off a round, the bullet ricocheting off her armor before her own clipped him, knocking the M6H2 from his grip a moment before she plowed into him. They hit the crumpled wreckage of the shrike hard and tumbled down the heap of debris. She made sure she landed on top. Launching a couple of punches into his kidneys, Briar got her arm around his neck from behind as he retaliated with his elbow. He gripped her forearm with both hands, prying it loose, but not before she wrenched his helmet free.

"Buck!" a female voice alerted her to company and Briar rolled them to put the still struggling Spartan-IV between her and his teammate. With a DMR pointed at them, the newcomer paused. "Let him go and turn yourself in."

"I had it under control, Tanaka," Buck managed to grumble even as Briar's arm dug into his windpipe, attesting to the fact she wasn't applying much pressure.

She rolled her eyes behind her visor, but at the same time plucked a grenade from his belt with her free hand and thumbed the detonator as she chucked it. Tanaka's head swivelled to track it, as she knew it would, and she kicked Buck aside, leaping up as the female Spartan-IV shot the grenade from the air. The resulting explosion served more as a distraction rather than doing any real harm, giving Briar time to grab the small disc from her belt, arm it, and fling it at Tanaka even as she pivoted and blocked a punch from Buck before delivering one of her own to his now vulnerable jaw which put him back on his ass, out cold. She glanced to Tanaka, but the disc had done as ONI had promised, latching onto her armor and locking out the other's MJOLNIR. Whoever had failed to remove it from her belt after she'd returned from _Infinity_ with John would probably get canned, but she sent them a silent thanks just the same.

Speaking of which. "John? Where are you?" She hunted for her M6C as she awaited his response, snatching the DMR from Tanaka's frozen grip as well and ignoring the woman's frustrated growl. She headed in the direction she'd last known John was headed as nothing but silence filled the comm.

As Briar rounded the largest mound of twisted materials which had once comprised the shrike a shot plowed into her still healing shoulder, deflected by the nanolaminate patch but still sending a jolt of pain down her arm. She raised the DMR and fired automatically into the area the round had come from as she sought cover. "John?" Still nothing. But this was either Locke or the other fireteam member, which hopefully meant John was only dealing with one and not both of them. She refused to take his comm silence as an indication they'd captured him. Perhaps they hadn't been adequately briefed on her combat abilities due to the sensitive nature of her personnel file, but even so, neither Buck or Tanaka had proved too much of a challenge. John should be able to handle whoever he faced, if they'd even managed to catch him up yet. Refocusing as something clanged into the dirt near her feet, she kicked the flashbang away a second before it went off, the noise defeaning nonetheless. This was what she got for worrying about him. She ducked, expecting the incoming fire, which tore into the warped wreckage where her helmet had been only a moment prior. With her shields depleted, she had to be more careful. The warnings to stand down had ceased, she'd noticed.

It was as she was jogging to new cover, bullets flying past, that a party of Elites stumbled onto the scene. They rushed into her with energy swords poised and she dove between the first one's feet, pelting his back with rounds from the DMR as she slid across the ground, then rolled up to her feet in time to spring over the slash of another. Her momentum brought her practically onto the shoulders of the surprised Sangheili and she rammed the stock of the rifle into his face, it being otherwise useless at such close range. Behind her, she could hear bullets from her pursuer slamming into the Elite's shields. She jumped down from the one her strike had caused to stagger backwards and dodged a third, shifting her grip and bringing the DMR around like a bat, clobbering him in the back. It busted the rifle, but she discarded it without remorse and drew her sidearm to put four bullets in the back of his head as he fell forward into his comrade. The red armored Spartan-IV was just finishing with the others and they suddenly stood facing each other.

At least there seemed to be more pelicans in the sky now than scarabs. It also didn't sound like as many of the shrikes were firing. Maybe 'Vadam would take the day. She hoped John deemed the trade worthwhile.

There wasn't more time for considerations as her adversary advanced, squeezing off a blast from her plasma pistol which Briar threw herself into a forward roll to avoid. Using the momentum which carried her back to her feet, she spun in a tight circle on her planted leg as a second blast crackled past and kicked the weapon from the other's hand before she could fire a third. Briar blocked the smaller woman's first few punches, absorbing a knee to her ribs in order to trap the other's leg against her side with her arm and deliver a vicious headbutt. She then hurled the red armored Spartan into the fallen Elites and turned to take up her search for John again, but the stubborn woman scrambled back to her feet with an energy sword to hand.

So be it, then.

This time she came on abruptly with swift strokes Briar had to twist and dodge, the blade sliding past her with just fractions of inches to spare at times. The weapon gave the other reach, and her more compact size made her movements sharp and efficient, giving Briar's larger form little time or room to evade. Getting inside a swing, she caught the Spartan-IV's forearm and jammed a leg through the other's stance, flipping the woman over her shoulder to the dirt yet again. Briar knocked the energy sword from her grip and was about to yank her helmet off to deck her when a round connected with her armor, ringing off the titanium plating. She whirled to spot Buck and Tanaka, the latter with sidearm still raised. It had been a pretty decent shot from that distance, Briar had to admit. Probably pissed about the DMR.

Retreating a few steps, she watched as they approached.

"Vale, you okay?" Buck called.

"Fine," the red armored Spartan responded as she got up.

"Who the heck _are_ you?" Buck was holding a carbine he must have picked up along the way on her now.

Briar stood, hands at her sides as she eyed the three of them. Either Buck or Tanaka had the disc now. Her money was on Tanaka. She didn't mind her odds against them, but she didn't like that she'd heard nothing from John.

As though on cue, their attention shifted over her shoulder.

"Where's Locke?" Tanaka demanded, clearly on edge.

Briar waited until John paused at her side before risking a glance to check that he was whole. His visor had been split, a crack running across the reflective surface, but he otherwise appeared unharmed.

"I suggest you go regroup," he said to them, as impassive as ever.

They shifted uneasily. Their job was to bring him in. But their uncertainty was palpable.

It was Buck who first lowered his weapon.

"What are you doing?" Vale hissed.

"Not having my ass handed to me for the second time today?" He jogged past, giving Briar and John a wide berth.

Vale and Tanaka shared a look before following more cautiously.

"That went well," Briar couldn't help commenting.

John turned to her and she reached up to lightly tap his visor.

"Hope the other guy looks worse."

He gave a noncommittal grunt in response and passed her the carbine he carried, stooping to collect another weapon from one of the Elites as he headed once more towards the fray.


	13. Unlacking

Sunaion was 'Vadam's.

With _Infinity_ 's help, they'd held on long enough to destroy the rest of the shrikes, and the _Shadow of Intent_ had arrived in time to take care of the ships which had been attempting to escape. There were no significant forces left to regroup and 'Mdama was dead. The covenant-remnant Sangheili faction was defeated. Others who yet opposed the treaty with humanity persisted, but with no outside support, they too would soon have little choice but to accept things as they stood.

And as for she and John - during the final moments of battle, they'd 'eluded' everyone aboard a phantom which had brought them to a nondescript location somewhere in the territory the Kaidon ruled over. For his part, he claimed ignorance with the less than impressed Spartan Locke who had questioned him on the subject - which was conveniently not a lie, as he didn't know their precise whereabouts. For now, Fireteam Osiris was remaining planetside under the pretense of assisting in putting down the remaining small resistance and aiding 'Vadam in establishing a council to govern over a unified Sanghelios. _Infinity,_ too, would stay in orbit.

It was a temporary solution at best - ONI would not be thwarted so easily - but for all that, Briar wasn't going to complain about the short respite. The first thing she'd done after the phantom had dropped them off had been to scope out the pod they were commandeering which they'd been informed by their escort had been left by human researchers on a previous visit to the planet and then promptly pass out on one of the two narrow and drastically undersized cots.

Hours later she had awoken, stiff and hungry, to find John had yet to sleep. Which hadn't, or at least shouldn't, have surprised her at this point.

"I'll take watch," she assured him as she walked to the doorway where he sat, staring outside in the exact position he'd been in when she'd closed her eyes.

His helmet tilted towards her as she lowered herself down beside him.

"Consider it an order." When this failed to elicit the desired response, she raised a brow. "Or I could make you talk about your feelings more."

"I don't know how to do that," John replied without compunction.

"I've noticed." Briar bumped her shoulder against his companionably and sighed. "Get some rest, John. Please. I'm worried about you."

He looked away at this, hesitating a moment more before he finally got up and went back to the other cot. He settled into a half sitting, half lying position that didn't look in the least comfortable and was still. With the helmet on, she had no way of knowing whether he slept or not, but she hoped he did.

She turned her attention to monitoring the surroundings outside the pod. It wasn't large, consisting of the two dwarfishly small cots, a lav complete with miniscule shower, a table with some equipment which hadn't been valuable enough to take evidently, and a small counter and refrigeration unit. There'd been ration bars, and she snacked on one while John rested. She assumed there were supplies enough for them to survive for a short while, until they figured out how to get off the planet and preferably off ONI's radar. Then again, she didn't hold much hope of the second ever occurring. They'd be hunted for a while. Indefinitely, even.

Turning to John once more, she frowned. She didn't know how he would deal with it. With being the enemy. He wouldn't slip quietly into oblivion. She was certain of that. He wanted purpose. But what purpose was there now?

* * *

"You need to bend down. No. Sit. Just sit." Briar fit the cumbersome alien tool to the last remaining bolt and pressed a hand to the breastplate to hold it in place. She removed the bolt and tossed the tool onto the cot beside John, releasing the titanium plate as he took it from her and lowered it away from his chest, leaving him in the black skinsuit. The various pieces of his armor scattered throughout the pod would need to be tidied into a pile, at the very least. They had little room as it was. "My turn." She relished getting out of the armor. Lifesaving, it may be. But also uncomfortable for sitting around or sleeping in. And there wasn't much else to do out here, in the middle of nowhere.

It'd taken some convincing on her part, of course, but John had reluctantly given in by day three. They'd seen no signs of activity anywhere in the vicinity. They were well and truly alone. And badly in need of washing up, the both of them.

Briar was looking forward to a shower, no matter what sort of shape she may have to contort herself into in order to achieve it. She patiently waited for him to help remove the titanium plating since it was a two person job. And a much more intimate one than she'd previously paid any attention to. Automated equipment usually made the process impersonal and efficient. This… was anything but. John was focused, it was true. But he was also touching her much more than he ever had before, holding her arms in place while working on the gauntlets, or squatting before her to detach the various leg pieces. As each new armor piece came away, there was less bulk between them. By the time he reached for the breastplate, he was standing close. His eyes also continually flicked between what he was doing and her face, as though he was attempting to decipher a particularly curious puzzle. "What?" She was a little nonplussed if she was being honest.

He paused, brows drifting upwards slightly, the final piece of armor half unsecured.

"It's a question, John," she pointed out for him.

"I don't know what you're asking."

"You keep… looking at me." When put that way, it sounded childish even to her. "You don't. Usually. Is all, I mean." He paid her little attention most of the time. Physically, that was.

"Should I stop?"

The question actually caught her off guard, though she wasn't sure how she'd expected him to respond. And he seemed genuinely interested in her answer. "You should tell me why you're doing it all of a sudden." That was the problem, surely. It wasn't typical for him.

He turned his attention back to finishing what he was doing, mouth firming and keeping his eyes resolutely locked onto the breastplate as he removed it. He set it beside the other pieces, which she noted he'd laid out more neatly than she had his. She wasn't even expecting him to tell her any longer when he finally did so. "I want to look at you." He fixed her with a searching and yet at the same time guarded look as he awaited her response.

Briar gave a slow nod of understanding. "Turn around." She nearly smiled at the way he cocked his head. "I want to look at you, too," she informed him. True, she'd already seen him shirtless, but there'd been quite a lot more on her mind than appreciating his musculature at that point. And it wasn't something she usually paid mind to, besides that. She wasn't attracted to all that many people. Living life behind a visor, as a ghost, didn't precisely encourage physical attachments. But there was something about him. His presence. Even encased in the MJOLNIR. Even behind the visor.

John raised a brow, but did as she said. He stood still as she tugged the zipper down and peeled the undersuit down over his shoulders. Pulling his arms free, he turned towards her once again, the tags hanging from the chain around his neck which identified him jangling softly. His skin was pale, not that that was any surprise. The bruises likewise didn't shock her. The armor was protective, but it could only do so much. They were greenish yellow already, well on their way to healing. He had scars. All Spartans did. What did catch her interest was the sprinkling of freckles across his shoulders. She glanced up, supposing his lengthening hair did possess hints of auburn if one looked closely enough. There were no freckles on his face, but sun tended to bring them out, and he didn't see all that much of that without a helmet, if she were to hazard a guess. Maybe as a child he'd possessed them?

Noting his expression, she had to laugh. "Why do you look so suspicious?"

"I can't tell what you're thinking," he admitted, eyes remaining narrowed.

Reaching up, Briar attempted to smooth the furrow from his brow. "I'm thinking I didn't notice before you had freckles." Her lips drew up as he immediately ducked his head to look down at himself, as though he didn't believe her. Did he really not realize? "Here." She touched his shoulder to show him.

"I had more," he said carefully. "Before."

"When you were younger." She realized the mistake with her wording when his head came up again, his jaw tightening. "I didn't mean it like that, John." Didn't she, though? Spartan-IIs weren't exactly young any longer. She'd seen his file. She knew he was 47. The silver hair was a testament to that, even if his body still rippled with more muscle than most men half his age. She was 20 years his junior, for that matter. She didn't feel it. She felt more world weary than he ever appeared. Pressing her hand to his chest, his heartbeat registered easily against her palm. It was strong. Steady. Vital. "Where else did you have them?" she asked.

His hands clenched briefly before he responded. "My arms. Face."

Without really knowing what she expected or wanted from this, Briar found herself skimming her fingers up his arms, searching for traces of these elusive childhood freckles.

John tensed beneath her touch at first, his gaze fighting both to follow the movement of her hands and to remain on her face.

"Do you want me to stop?" Perhaps when he'd stated he desired to look at her, that had been all he meant he desired? She was aware he lacked much experience with casual social interactions. Not that that's what this was. But if he was lacking in experience with one, the same was likely true for… whatever this was.

"No."

"Tell me what you want," she encouraged, not wishing to make him uncomfortable by crossing any lines.

His eyes darted to where her hands had come to rest on his shoulders. "To feel you. Touch you."

Briar reached back at this, pulling her zipper down. She worked one arm and then the other free from the skinsuit before sliding it down to drape from her waist, just as his did. Watching as his focus dipped downwards and then travelled back up slowly. Bruises splotched areas of her torso and arms, just as they did his, though her complexion wasn't as pale as his. Her skin was more bronze hued with not a hint of a freckle, her once upon a time ancestors originating in the Mediterranean on Earth. Her eyes a deep chocolate and hair burnt umber. And he seemed to be taking all of this in. She'd never been self-conscious, it was difficult to form such discomfitures when one was always being prodded by this one and examined by that one. But his perusal, like most everything else about him, was intense. "Well?" she prompted him, biting her lip against further laughter.

It shouldn't have then come as much surprise to her that his attention snagged on her mouth, on the lip she had caught in her teeth. His hand was large enough to cup the whole side of her head as he ran his calloused thumb over her lower lip, and she could only stare fixedly at him in wonder at the fact, despite she stood half naked before him, the first thing he chose to touch was her lips. It made her hurt inside for him for reasons she couldn't even begin to understand.

Turning her head, she grazed her mouth across his palm, pressing a kiss there. His fingers slid along her jaw and down her neck, no doubt able to circle her throat with ease, but instead spreading out over her collarbone. He gingerly skimmed over the still healing bullet wound. It didn't bother her, but she was moved by his gentleness. By the way his eyes seemed to drink in every detail of her body. His thumb travelled lower, down the centre of her chest and through the valley of her breasts, his palm barely ghosting over a nipple, and Briar was too entranced by his careful examination to be frustrated by the teasing nature of it. She didn't get the impression it was intentional. He was simply absorbed in what he was doing. But that didn't mean she was about to stand there patiently.

Leaning in, she risked obstructing his view to press her mouth to his chest. She passed her lips over one pectoral, exhaling softly on the nipple and encircling it with her tongue before closing her mouth over it, feeling it tauten. His hand tightened considerably against her ribs and she smirked in satisfaction before trailing kisses upwards, nipping the sensitive skin at his throat. His stubble scratched her cheek as he attempted to crane his head back, to figure out what she was doing she assumed. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she applied pressure to draw him down the small distance required to brush her lips against his own. It didn't seem much of a stretch to guess no one had kissed him before. All of this seemed a novelty to him, but she pushed the pain that stirred away for the moment. She would not pity him while she kissed him. She didn't pity him. She was both humbled and elated to be the first to share the experience with him.

John caught on rapidly. Inexperienced, he might be - but naive or shy, he was not. Soon he was dipping his head, demanding more than her gentle caresses, and it took only a few swipes of her tongue before he was slanting his mouth against her own and challenging her for dominance over the kiss. The hand which had been making its way down her side slid around to her back to close the gap between them, forcing their bodies flush, the other entangled in her now dishevelled hair, more of her loose dark waves having escaped the bun than remained trapped within it at this point.

Briar leaned back, grinning against him when his hold firmed in response to prevent her from breaking contact. She slipped her fingers between their mouths in order to reclaim the ability to speak. "Come with me." She tipped her head towards the lav and gave a gentle tug on the chain around his neck.

His nostrils flared slightly with indignation at the interruption, but she pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his lips and then pushed back and he released her, however reluctantly. She could feel him following as she stepped through into the compact lav. Hitting the panel for the shower, she began pushing the skinsuit the rest of the way down, over her hips and thighs until she could draw her legs out. A glance behind revealed him filling the doorway, his gaze riveted to her.

When she stepped beneath the spray of tepid water, his expression became skeptical, and she could practically see the calculations running through his mind as he sized up the limited space. She laughed and worked on freeing the rest of her hair. "It'll work."

"I don't see how," he warned her.

"I have confidence in you." Cupping her hands, she gathered enough water to splash him. "You're wet now, so you might as well get in."

His lips twisted wryly, the droplets trickling down his chest of little concern, but he obliged her nonetheless, shucking his undersuit and approaching.

Briar squeezed back enough for him to slide in beneath the spray, which fortuitously had been built into the ceiling a whole six or so inches above his head. The result could not be described as comfortable, but she saw no issue with being squeezed into him, and the hard ridge jutting into her abdomen assured he was of similar opinion even if he'd had reservations. "See?" she couldn't help gloating while retrieving one of the soap pods from the dispenser currently digging into her lower back. "Cozy." She ran the pod over his shoulder, leaving a trail of bubbly lather.

"If our aim is to bathe, I think you're overestimating my flexibility," he informed her.

"Consider it a convenient byproduct, not an aim." She slid the pod up the side of his neck and around his Adam's apple. "We also need to figure out a way to clean this up." If his stubble grew too much more, it would be difficult to deal with.

"I liked it better when we weren't talking."

Briar grinned at this solemn statement. "Maybe you could do something about that?"

The words had no sooner left her lips than his came crashing down onto them, his mouth hot and hard, much like the rest of him. He did not possess a refined talent for kissing, but then again she had a feeling he had no notion of the art of seduction, nor a use for it. His touch was no longer one of investigation, it was heavy and guided by more primitive urges as he gripped her hip with one hand and smothered a breast with the other. His body unyielding as it shoved her into the wall, forcing her back to arch around the dispenser. He could probably hurt her unintentionally. He was larger, with greater muscle mass. But the fleeting thought passed from her mind as suddenly as it had occurred. She was confident she could manage a lack of finesse and some rough handling. She was far from delicate, even if her augmentations had not been as extensive as his own.

Snaking an arm around his neck, she pulled herself up and hooked a leg over his hip to draw herself clear of the dispenser. As predicted, the moment he stepped into the newly liberated space and one of his more sensitive regions brought up against the damn thing, he issued a grunt and turned them towards the opposite wall. Somehow the soap pod remained in her free hand and she glided it down his back as he reached for her other thigh, wrenching her off her remaining foot and holding her aloft easily.

John tore his lips away from hers, his stubble scraping her throat as he hefted her higher. Her head fell back as his mouth sealed over a pert nipple, teeth grazing her. He made up in thoroughness what he lacked in expertise. Soon Briar's fingers were burrowed in his cropped hair, digging into his scalp as her legs gripped his waist with enough force to snap a less sturdy spine. "John," she blurted, in awe of the breathy quality of her own voice. "I want you. Now." Because while this was good, she was more than ready for more. Much more.

Raising his head at the demand, he allowed her to reclaim his mouth. Her lips felt swollen both from the vigour of his kisses and from brushing against his stubble, but far more important sensations were accosting her senses. She loosened her vice-like hold on his torso enough to slide lower, the heat of his erection scorching a path along the inside of her thigh. She couldn't help grinding into it to create the delicious friction her body was screaming for and a thrill ran through her at the answering rumble from deep within his chest.

He crushed her against the shower wall and she fancied she heard the telltale crackles of the material breaking, but didn't have the opportunity to worry about it as he pushed into her without hesitation. There was a sound of some sort lodged in her throat, but the sudden rigidity of his posture trapped it there. His lips left hers and he stared at her, the icy blue of his irises a narrow ring around his dilated pupils. She couldn't fathom what he must be thinking in that moment, but whatever it was, was monumental enough to have stopped him dead in his tracks. She did her best to ignore the achy fullness of him, realizing while this was indeed a physical release, for both of them, it was also more than that. It was the first time he'd revealed this side of himself to anyone. The very needy, very vulnerable human side. So she gave him a moment to come to terms with that, smoothing a fingertip across his eyebrow and along his cheekbone. "I see you," she murmured softly to him as she brought their mouths back together, kissing him slowly.

He responded with much more restraint than he'd previously been showing. Briar indulged him for a while, meeting his control with more tender and languid caresses and kisses. But she began challenging him and taunting him with her teeth and nails before long, drawing out his more domineering and self-assured reactions again, especially when she took the initiative to roll her hips against him and moan at the resulting burn of equal parts pain and pleasure. The man was well proportioned, stretching her just to the point of discomfort, but she knew the only way to relieve that was by moving, by softening herself to him. At least no further coaxing was required on her part, his hands engulfing her ass to hold her firmly in place as he began to work with her.

The shower unit didn't offer much room, but neither was much required despite their larger than average builds. Locked together, they moved against one another unhurriedly. With her thighs bracketing his hips, holding him to her with savage pressure, John ground into her mercilessly. His mouth was no less ruthless on her own, pinning her head to the slick wall as her body rose and fell slightly with each stroke. Pleasure built steadily between them until his grip on her became bruising and his final brutal thrusts pushed her over the edge, her nerves awash in ecstasy as she clenched him with legs, heels, arms, nails, and inner muscles alike. She swallowed his growl of release, which seemed to vibrate through his ribcage as well as her own, and then his head dropped to her shoulder, his breath gusting against her throat as his every muscle quivered. His fingers had slackened, but she had no doubt they'd left behind distinct impressions in the flesh of her rear. She was going to be sore following this, but she liked to think she'd given as good as she got as she surveyed the damage she'd done to his back, the least of which was the scratches from her blunt nails.

Combing lightly through the hair at his nape as he came back to himself, Briar located the Spartan tags with her other hand and lifted them from between their chests. Her own were long gone, left behind on Reach along with so much else of her identity. She ran the pad of her thumb across the etched characters. This was all he would ever be to ONI. To the UNSC. She could feel him gathering himself before his head came up, his gaze meeting hers. There was a question in it. She leaned forward to kiss him. "Suggestions for next time?"

"Not in here," he supplied promptly.

"I'm listening."

"The floor."

He had a point - the cots would offer even less space than the shower unit. "Practical of you," she decided with a laugh, not missing the mirthful glitter to his eyes.


	14. All You Are

"I know you're awake," Briar insisted in amusement as she propped her elbow up and laid her head in her hand.

Beside her - on the floor - John first cracked open one eye and then the other, slanting her a sideways look. Resting on his back, he turned his head towards her, and she chuckled at how alert and yet indolent he managed to appear all at the same time.

"Stay there." She had an idea. Climbing off the heap of thin blankets they'd slept atop, she went to her MJOLNIR and drew the knife, checking the blade and deeming it suitable for her requirements. She then ducked into the lav, grabbing a towel and soap pod and wetting the latter before returning.

John was sitting by this point and eying her speculatively. That promptly changed to wariness when he saw what she had and clued in. "Have you done this before?"

"No," she answered as she stepped over his legs and settled down, straddling him. "But I happen to like your head attached to your shoulders, so I'll be careful." That said, she lathered up the pod between her hands and liberally coated his jaw and throat. "Stay still." Drying her hands on the towel, she took up the knife and stretched his skin taut with her fingers before scraping away the short, stiff hairs.

Although he retained the doubtful expression, he did as bade. At first, anyway. During the course of her ministrations she noted a certain part of him was becoming increasingly rigid. Eventually his hands curled around the backs of her knees, tugging her into closer contact.

"John," she warned him, blade poised over his exposed neck.

"I like the way you say my name," he decided after giving it some consideration, Adam's apple bobbing precariously close to the knife as he did so. Still, she couldn't be _too_ exasperated by the confession.

"The way I say it?"

Seemingly thinking better of speaking as she skimmed the blade up his throat, he grunted a confirmation instead. It didn't stop his hands from sliding up her thighs to position her better, however.

"John," she scolded again, jerking the knife back as he guided her hips firmly to where he wanted them and drew her down onto his hot length. She squirmed, tender still, and released a soft breath before fixing him with a pointed look.

Far from chastened, he took her wrist and brought the blade back to his face, silently ordering her to continue. Perhaps it was an adrenaline rush for him, but she found it understandably difficult to concentrate on the task at hand while he experimented with angling her hips and rocking them gently together.

Briar rushed as much as she felt safe to do so, closing her eyes and moaning out his name when he found a particularly sensitive spot. The knife fell from her boneless fingers as he coaxed her through the same motion over and over, relentlessly tapping into the throbbing pulse of pleasure until she came completely undone, collapsing against his chest, her heart hammering. It wasn't the type of orgasm she usually experienced, but she didn't have time to dwell on that either as he laid back and rolled them in one fluid movement. She blinked hazily up at him as he rested on his forearms over her and studied her. "What are you doing?"

"Watching you." Blood was welling from a knick on his jaw, but as her vision came back into focus, she spotted no other accidental injuries. He was lucky. And still very hard inside her.

"Idiot. I could have hurt you." She couldn't muster up much anger, certainly not when the corner of his mouth quirked up and he began moving again. Seizing the chain dangling about his neck, she pulled his head down to capture those brazen lips. She bit him and met him thrust for thrust, heels digging into his calves to give her more leverage. And when she felt his climax oncoming, her own not far behind, she pressed close to his ear so he could hear her wanton panting and shameless exclamations of his name. She wasn't typically vocal, but the fact he enjoyed it made the boldness worthwhile. The universe-shatteringly good sex didn't make it a trial, either.

Briar smiled through the bliss of her own high as he almost violently trembled against her, control slipping enough that his full weight dropped onto her. She hummed in satisfaction, the noise muffled by his shoulder, and closed her teeth playfully over his skin, deriving nearly as much pleasure from the fact he was too comatose to react as she had from the orgasms themselves. He was breathing hard still and sweat dampened the small of his back as her fingers danced across it. "Chances are you like hearing me say your name only marginally more than I like saying it."

"Liar," he muttered, face still plastered into her hair where it'd fanned out across the blankets.

"So I won't bother doing that again?"

Levering himself up with not a little difficulty, John mock-glowered down at her until she leaned up and kissed him. It only took a moment for him to melt back down again, his lips moving gently against her own. He was still far from proficient with the kissing side of things, even though they'd been at this for… a long time. But he was earnest in his approach, which just happened to mostly consist of mimicking whatever she did.

Something swelled in her chest at the depth of affection he was capable of showing if only approached as more than a piece of military hardware. Even she was guilty of not realizing or appreciating how expressive his features could be. So often he was silent, impassive, almost resembling the statues they'd erected of him more than the man he was. But what could be expected when he could likely count the amount of people who'd treated him as anything other than a piece of advanced weaponry on one hand? Treated him with warmth? Like actual flesh and bone, and not the nearly impervious titanium he wore?

"John," Briar said when he drew back slightly, not really knowing what it was she intended to tell him.

He gazed at her, the lines edging his mouth and eyes as eased as she'd yet noticed them. "I know," he assured. "You see me."

* * *

It was Briar's watch when the pelican showed up, but it had no sooner flown into hearing range than John appeared outside the pod. He tipped his head, visor tracking the dropship's descent.

"You should find cover."

"Don't ask me to leave you standing out here alone," she replied while donning her own helmet.

"I'm not asking."

"And I'm not listening, so we're square."

He turned to her as the engine noise grew louder. "They'll take me in."

"I know, we had this discussion already."

"I'm not letting you die for no reason, Briar."

"John…" She rapped her knuckles against his breastplate. "That's the first time you've used my name. I _can't_ leave now. It's a milestone."

It sounded like he snorted as he faced the approaching pelican, but who knew. He kept his hands at his sides, his weapons stowed, and so did she.

The dropship stirred up dust and loose foliage as it landed, thrusters spooling down while the rear ramp lowered. The first to appear was a Spartan-IV with DMR to hand, the muzzle fixing onto Briar promptly. The second was Captain Lasky. He looked from her to John, taking in their non-threatening posture, and waved a hand towards the Spartan. "Stand down."

"Sir, with all due respect, we know nothing about who that is," she disagreed, the DMR remaining locked onto Briar.

"Commander Palmer." Lasky glanced to her briefly and then left the safety of the pelican to walk towards them. "Chief."

"Sir. How did you find me?" Despite the fact she was aware he hadn't been expecting them anymore than she had, no hint of surprise was betrayed in John's voice when he spoke.

Before Lasky had even opened his mouth to answer, a female voice preceded him. "He didn't." Stepping down from the ramp, Catherine Halsey had aged in the six years since Briar had last seen her, but she sounded as arrogant as ever. "Being the deeveloper of your armor, however, it was a small matter for me." If there was one thing ONI _had_ done right, it was to throw her into a dark cell, even if those who'd done so had been just as guilty as she. It'd never been made clear what she'd been incarcerated for, just the same. What she was doing free now, Briar had no notion.

John watched as she approached, but offered no greeting.

"John." Her steely expression was reflected back at her in his cracked visor. Her fingers twitched, and Briar got the impression she was refraining from investigating the damaged equipment, but at the same time that there was more to it than merely that. Her focus shifted then, though she remained standing before John's towering form. "I confess I was dismissive of the Spartan-III program at first. Companies of 300 sent to their slaughter time and time again, an utter waste of resources and effort, and they had the audacity to record them as both pyrrhic _and_ strategic victories. But you - you gave me something more to consider, B-312."

Palmer shifted, her helmet turning ever so slightly towards Lasky, as though for confirmation what Halsey was spouting wasn't complete nonsense.

"My AI never chose wrong," she went on.

"What do you want?" Briar questioned before the word Noble could cross Halsey's lips.

"To fix this," Lasky interjected, perhaps sensing the building tension. He'd lifted his hands placatingly.

"Ambitious." She was certain the captain could hear the cynicism which accompanied the word.

"Inevitable," Halsey scoffed. "Osman is shortsighted in her approach. She's too concerned with the threat she perceives you as to comprehend your real potential. So she fabricates these outlandish allegations to bring you to heel, to turn humanity against you, when in reality you are humanity's greatest accomplishment, John. You are our future."

Briar could feel her lip curling and was grateful for the anonymity of her helmet. If Palmer and Lasky could see the derision burning in her eyes, they'd be fools to allow Halsey to stand in her presence a moment longer. She tore her gaze away from the gray-haired woman, looking to Lasky instead. "How exactly are you going to fix this?"

"We're examining the footage from Biko. So far we've come up with a few discrepancies which might bring its authenticity into question," he supplied.

"Spartan-IIs do not kill indiscriminately," Halsey cut in, glancing back to him. "That should be proof enough."

Lasky gave a slow nod, to acknowledge the declaration. "The Kaidon sent up the blood sample you provided him as well, Chief. I'm told it's… interesting."

So he'd done as she'd suggested, after all. Good.

"I need to run diagnostics to ensure whatever they gave you didn't result in any permanent damage." Halsey turned to return to the pelican. "Now is preferable, Captain."

Lasky's posture was one of dwindling patience, but he hid it fairly well as she passed by him.

"What about Locke?" John voiced the question that'd been on Briar's mind.

"Fireteam Osiris is-"

"Out of their league," Halsey interjected from inside the dropship.

"-otherwise preoccupied." Lasky rolled his eyes now. "My understanding is 'Vadam's been leaving trails of breadcrumbs for them."

Palmer finally lowered the DMR as the pelican's engines came back to life.

"We just need them to stay that way for a little while longer." Lasky waited, watching as John turned his head towards Briar.

It was she who took the first step forward, boarding with John close behind. She didn't so much have faith in their ability to reinstate his good name as she did in the certainty he needed them to. Unlike her, John could never be a ghost. His conviction in what was right and what was wrong was too strong for him to accept being branded a traitor.


	15. Origins

The lift doors slid open to reveal the cavernous deck of _Infinity_ which was dedicated to her Spartan-IV contingent.

Palmer preceded them out, but Briar could see the reactions of those personnel closest over the Spartan Commander's now bared head as she and John stepped out in unison. They, unlike him, wore their reactions openly, ranging from shock to admiration to intimidation. She couldn't blame them. He stood head and shoulders above the lot of them, a god walking amongst mere mortals. They'd been divested of their weapons upon deboarding the pelican, and yet even unarmed, his superiority was unquestionable.

Following Palmer down the central aisle, they were directed to the platform mounted equipment which would remove their MJOLNIR.

Spartan-IVs were abandoning all pretense of doing anything other than staring as she and John mounted opposite platforms.

The human-assisted machinery detached the suit's exoskeleton following a procedure Briar was all too familiar with by now. When the last piece dropped away, she reached up and took off her helmet, passing it off to the nearest pair of waiting gloved hands. She blew away the loose strands of hair which had fallen into her eyes as she stepped down, looking across to John. His mouth and eyes were tight, his gaze locked onto her, and she understood why.

He didn't want their attention. Their worship. He just wanted to do his duty.

"Dr. Halsey's waiting in med bay 7," Palmer informed them, having remained ensconced in her GEN2 with helmet tucked under an arm.

Briar could feel her scrutiny, and turned her head to meet the woman's eye, having to tip her chin down to do so.

"I won't pretend to understand where she gets her information from, but Noble Six died on Reach." There was a clear note of misgiving beneath the challenge.

"That's what the file says," Briar confirmed.

John angled his head towards the lift and she took his cue, retracing their path. If anything, the Spartan-IVs appeared _more_ in awe at the sight of the Master Chief without MJOLNIR than within.

When the lift doors sealed behind them, she rested a shoulder against the sleek metallic interior and crossed her arms. "I don't trust Halsey." The woman had never come up between them before despite her heavy involvement in the Spartan-II program, but on the other hand he hadn't proven very willing to chat about that particular subject. Or many others. She wasn't sure how he would take the statement, but she wouldn't ignore what her gut was telling her, and he deserved to know.

"She has her own motives in all of this," he agreed after a moment. Even bared of his MJOLNIR, he was especially difficult to read as the lift brought them to the appropriate deck.

"Osman would have known Osiris wasn't up to scratch when she sent them after us. There's more to this."

He faced her, brow creasing. "She believes what she said down there."

"I know." Briar lifted her shoulders. Halsey's disdain for the Admiral had been real enough. "But they released her for a reason."

"You think she's playing along as a means to her own end," John concluded.

"I think she's playing everyone involved."

The lift settled on the proper deck and they turned together as the doors opened. The corridor outside was empty, though whether by design or coincidence was a mystery. They moved to the door labelled as med bay 7 and it slid apart, inviting them in.

"Took you long enough," Halsey's clipped tones greeted them. She motioned to an examination table with impatience. "John."

Briar followed him over and clasped her hands behind her back as she took up a position nearby.

Once he was lying on the table, Halsey tapped in some commands to begin running the various diagnostic scans. "Have you been suffering from any ill effects?"

"No," he answered.

"The levels on your toxicology report suggested they'd dosed you heavily enough with contraindicated drugs to produce severe adverse reactions." Halsey was absorbed in the feedback from the ongoing scans, but still managed to sound indignant. Her eyes narrowed at some data or other and she turned towards Briar. "Your role in all this remains unclear to me."

"How inconvenient," she responded with disinterest.

"I can tell you dislike me. I never agreed with the selection criteria utilized for your program. ONI falsely believed by specifically choosing candidates who held an existing grudge for the Covenant and fostering that hatred throughout the course of their training, they'd create soldiers primed to do whatever it took to win the war, including sacrifice themselves without question." Halsey scrolled through some of the feedback. "What they failed to consider is that while sacrifice is sometimes necessary to achieve the end goal, it is also too often the obvious solution, but _not_ the best one. Spartan-IIs are capable of making these sorts of determinations without outside input. Of examining all viable options and selecting the most appropriate given their specific circumstances, in real time. Especially when paired with an advanced tactical AI."

There was no question to whom she was referring, of course, and from the corner of her eye Briar noticed John's muscles had tensed. "But you had no issue with their selection criteria." She didn't want to be riled by the woman, but indifference was an impossible demeanor to maintain when faced with her unfathomable callousness in discussing what had happened.

Halsey shot her a sharp glance. "What do you know about that?"

"That they were children. Like us." John had said as much, and since it was the deep-seated hatred instilled in the IIIs by having been orphaned by the Covenant she seemed to take exception with, Briar didn't think her next statement was much of a leap. "But they had families, didn't they?"

"I know what I did was unconscionable," Halsey said after a long pause.

The scans concluded and John sat up. His expression was closed, as it so often was. But the condemnation was there, in his eyes as he regarded Halsey silently.

She squared her shoulders as she turned to him. "It was also necessary." She stepped closer, her hand lifting towards him. "You were necessary, John." The disbelief which registered on her face as Briar's fingers closed around her fragile wrist before she got within a foot of touching him was the most emotion she'd yet displayed.

"You don't get to justify what you did. Not to him. Not anymore."

She was quick to regain her composure, all things considered. "You're out of line, Spartan."

"There'd have to be a line for that to be true," Briar reminded her coolly. She'd stepped away from their pristine rules long ago, when assigned her first black-ops mission. "And even if there were, you're not in anyone's chain of command."

Before Halsey could reply, John got up from the table. "Let her go," he said, his back already turned as he headed for the exit. "We're done here."

Brow lifting expectantly, Halsey waited to be released. The moment she was, she moved to a console and snatched something up. "John, wait. I have something for you."

Briar had followed him, but was frozen by an ominous suspicion at those words. She turned to see the chip Halsey was holding aloft.

"I've been working on a new model. Superior to anything the UNSC has or will have access to for the next five years, at minimum." Halsey brandished the chip like a symbol of hope, of repentance. Of amends. "She's ready for you."

Briar had the very real and sudden urge to smash the thing beneath her heel. Before she could act on it, a warm hand encircled her elbow and ushered her from the room.

John didn't say anything as they returned to the lift. And when she opened her mouth to do so, his warning squeeze prevented the words from leaving her throat. He hit the button for the deck Lasky had already informed them their quarters were located on during the ride up to the ship, and when the door opened, he released her arm. "I need to speak with the captain." He wouldn't meet her eye.

With a nod, she stepped out of the lift. If he didn't want her there, that was his prerogative. As she'd just pointed out to Halsey, she didn't fit within the UNSC's ranks any longer.

* * *

It was well into the sleep cycle when her door suddenly slid open to admit the shadowed figure in the hall. Briar pushed up slowly into a half-sitting position. "You seem undecided for someone standing outside my cabin in the middle of the night."

"I didn't expect it to open automatically," John admitted, his bulk filling the doorway as he passed through it.

"So your plan was to lurk in the corridor."

"Didn't have a plan." The door closed behind him.

"Mmmhmm." She slid in towards the wall, leaving as much of the bunk as possible free for him. They'd been sized appropriately to accommodate Spartans at least. Just not two of them at once.

He hesitated, but joined her in the end, sitting on the edge to remove the boots he now wore in conjunction with his black and charcoal fatigues. She'd likewise swapped her skinsuit earlier, but wore only the t-shirt and boxer briefs under the blanket currently. After shucking the boots and hanging the cap on the bedpost, he laid back beside her.

"I can hear you thinking," she insisted after enduring several minutes of him staring up at the ceiling.

"You programmed it to let me in."

She snorted. "Call it a moment of weakness." It'd been wishful thinking on her part, plain and simple. She hadn't honestly expected he would turn up. "But that's not what's bothering you."

"No." He didn't elaborate, and she didn't push him to. It could have been one of a million things considering his situation, but somehow she knew it was the AI. And she hated Halsey all the more for that.

Turning to her side, Briar lifted her hand to trail her fingers over his face. She gently coaxed him to close his eyes and then continued to stroke across his temples, his nose, his jaw until the stress slipped from the hard lines of his features and his breathing deepened in sleep. She stayed that way long after she should have gone to sleep herself, instead savouring every single quiet moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest and the way his eyelids flickered in dreams.

* * *

_People were screaming._

_Thick plumes of smoke filled the air along with the cloying stench of singed flesh and hair. And fear._

_Sticky blood coated her hands. Red, not blue._

_She recognized the buildings surrounding her; some crumbling, torn apart by plasma blasts - some whole; her home, from the eyes of the small girl she hadn't been for more than 20 years now._

_As she turned in a slow circle to take in the chaos, weapons fire and the horrified shouts of the dying accosting her eardrums, a familiar figure strode into the gloom._

_John._

_She followed him. She tried to call out, but the acrid smoke clogged her throat._

_He walked calmly through the destruction, his step never faltering. All around him aliens savaged her people and yet he carried on confidently, purposefully._

_She struggled not to fall behind despite his unhurried pace. Each time something or someone impeded her view, terror tightened like a vice around her heart, making it difficult to think, to breathe. She scrambled past those crying out for her, reaching out for her. She had to get to John - needed to reach him._

_He rounded a burning structure, disappearing from sight, and she rushed in his wake, desperate. Desperate to get to him. To stop him._

_But it was too late. Too late when she staggered around the building._

_A different scene played out before her now. A playground. A boy. A woman. She knelt before him and said something._

" _John."_

_His expression was one of determination. He nodded._

" _John!"_

_The woman tossed something into the air._

" _JOHN!"_

_He looked over, squinting against the sun. Freckles spattered the bridge of his nose and his cheeks._

_The woman laid her hand on his small shoulder._

_Too late._


	16. Arise

When she walked onto the observation deck of the War Games simulation chamber, Briar had little in mind apart from passing away an hour or so watching those below. She'd freshly showered following a session in the expansive gymnasium assigned to and designed for the Spartan-IV contingent on board, but there was little point sparring with her 'newer model' counterparts. Without their GEN2 MJOLNIR, she surpassed them physically in every way. And the last thing she needed to deal with was a bunch of bruised egos.

Stepping up to the specialized glass which separated the observatory from the cavernous combat deck while at the same time portraying the current simulation being run, she tracked the various participants as they interacted with the holographic projections, automated environment, and ultimately each other.

"Fidelis," someone barked abruptly as the door slid open again.

Briar looked over her shoulder as Palmer entered, the latter slowing her step when she noted the room was occupied.

"Yes, Commander?" the AI answered through the integrated comm system.

"Reset the simulation." Palmer strode to the glass, her dark uniform crisp as she gazed down on her people.

"Resetting simulation. Recalibration in progress."

Below, the Spartan-IVs looked around in bewilderment as the projections blinked out, some of them throwing up their hands in clear frustration. They returned to their starting positions, all the same.

"I asked Jun about you," Palmer spoke up after a moment. "He said, as far as he knew - as far as anyone knows - Noble Six never made it off Reach."

Briar shrugged. She didn't see what reason Palmer could possibly believe Halsey had for lying about her identity, but neither did it bother her. "I don't care who you think I am. I don't care who you think I'm not, either."

Palmer turned to her, hostility written plainly on her features now that there was no one else around to witness it. "Look, the captain's staking his career on this, and I'm not about to let him throw it all away on a wildcard."

"From where I stand, he's already all in. And if you have a problem with that, you bring it to him - not me," Briar pointed out. "I'm not here to prove myself. I've done that. I'm here for John. And if you have a problem with _that_ , I'm happy to wait for you to suit up so we can settle our differences. Because I'm not going anywhere."

"Not even if you being here is going to hurt his chances of being cleared?" Palmer raised a brow. "Whoever you are, you complicate matters."

"Matters are complicated, Commander. Get your head on straight. ONI is so corrupt, it's rotting from the inside out. The redactions in my file aren't what they don't want you to see, they're what they want you to focus on so you don't realize they're vanilla compared to what's _not_ in there. You have no idea what they're capable of," Briar assured her. "You have no idea what I'm capable of." She gave that a moment to sink in, watching the deliberation going on behind the other woman's doubtful expression, then left Palmer to stew.

* * *

"Sir…"

Lasky didn't know what to think of her appearance on the bridge, that much was obvious. He waved down the security officers stationed outside the lift doors who'd stepped into her path. "Spartan."

"Captain. A minute of your time, if you can spare it," Briar requested.

He gave a slow nod and gestured her into the same briefing room they'd first spoken in when she'd come to retrieve John. Once the door closed, he hesitated. "I'm not real sure what to call you."

She nearly sighed at this. "It doesn't matter."

"How can I help you, then?"

"I want access to a secure room with monitoring equipment. I want a secondary external recording device. And I want you to verify every detail I'm going to give."

Lasky's brows had climbed with each demand. "That last one… isn't going to be easy."

"No. It isn't," she agreed. "But if you like running this ship, and if you truly want to help John, you'll find a way."

"Who is it you expect me to bring this to - HighCom?"

"No one. I just want you to hold onto it."

He regarded her consideringly, his expression turning solemn. "Until?"

"You'll know. And when you do, you don't bring it to HighCom. You bring it to everyone."

"That sounds more like breaking things than fixing them," Lasky reasoned.

"I'll let you be the judge of that, Sir. But if you still believe things aren't already completely fucking broken after you hear what I have to say, maybe you're not the right man to fix this."

* * *

"When I came to get you - we exited slipspace, and I hopped the pelican to fly to _Infinity_ … first time I'd laid eyes on Earth in a while."

Sanghelios filled the viewport, cloud formations wreathing its oceans and continents. She wasn't exactly sure how long she'd been standing there, staring at it, but she felt John's presence behind her the moment he came around the bend in the not-oft traversed corridor.

He approached, taking up a position at her back rather than her side. He could see over her head. "You weren't in your room."

"Were you looking for me, or just lurking again?"

His hand came around her ribcage, pulling her back into his chest. It remained spread over her sternum, holding her in place.

Briar relaxed against him slowly. "We can't stay here much longer."

"I know."

"Something's not right about Osiris wasting all this time nosing around down there."

"I know."

"If you have contributions to make, I'm all ears," she prompted him.

A subtle note of amusement was evident in his voice when he responded. "You seemed to be doing fine without me."

"I could say the same of you." If she'd refused that assignment, left him well enough alone… it wouldn't have made a difference - they'd have sent someone else, found another way - but she couldn't feel anything but responsible nonetheless.

John was silent for a moment. "We're not talking about the same thing anymore."

"I was minding my own business, enjoying the view. What do you want to talk about?" He'd been the one to seek her out.

"You."

Briar wrinkled her nose. Eight hours of regurgitating every heinous particular of the numerous deplorable missions she'd been handed down over the past 13 years put that subject right around the bottom of her list of tolerable conversation topics. "Pass."

Grip shifting to her waist, he turned her around to face him, effectively hemming her in against the viewport. "You said my name in your sleep. Over and over again."

She flushed. "Just a dream." It'd evaporated the moment she'd opened her eyes. All that remained clear in her memory now was the inexplicable terror that had been crushing her chest.

His gaze narrowed in a way that told her he was aware there was far more to it than that.

"I liked it better when we weren't talking, too," she decided, making to turn back to the viewport, but finding herself locked in situ as his mouth descended onto hers. His arms encircled her, lifting her clear off the deck and trapping hers at her sides in the process, and she huffed a breath out in protest before muttering against his lips. " _John_."

He held her prisoner a beat longer, his eyes gleaming with impudence, then loosened his arms enough that she slid down against him until her boots once again touched the floor. "I want you."

"I noticed," Briar assured him as his hands found their way beneath her fatigues, the manner in which their bodies were melded leaving no doubt of this. "Tell me you're not going to accept that AI from Halsey."

The appeal cooled his ardor about as effectively as an icy shower would have. His hands stilled and he regarded her carefully, as though trying to discern what he _should_ say.

"It feels off, John. We don't know where she stands," she insisted, willing him to understand the irrational fear even she couldn't explain. "You don't need it. You don't need anything from her."

"You don't know that," he said as he pulled away, his inner turmoil crippling enough that it came through clearly in just those four words.

"I do. She's done enough to you." She didn't try to keep him close, knowing he needed to work through this. "Let it be enough."

Pacing away from her, John whirled abruptly, driving his fist into a bulkhead. The reinforced steel buckled with the force of the blow, his bloody knuckles leaving a crimson smear as he stepped back.

"You don't owe them anything - any of them." Briar watched the rage roll over him. The betrayal. The pain. He'd been suppressing them for so long - all his life - that accepting them, processing them was a monumental struggle. "You're not _just_ a soldier. What you're feeling now; that's humanity. That anger, that hurt - it belongs to you, John. It's yours. You're allowed to be pissed. You're allowed to be done with their hypocrisy."

His hands came up to run over his face as a muscle in his cheek ticked from clenching his jaw so hard. The tendons in his neck stood out, tight enough to snap. "Don't," he grated out the instant she moved in his direction.

"I told you, I'm not leaving you out here alone."

"I can't- I don't want to hurt you," he warned as he backed away, hands up to ward her off.

Not bothering with arguing with him, she merely closed the distance between them, catching his hands when he attempted to jerk them down to his sides to avoid touching her. She calmly tugged them back beneath her shirt to her sides, holding them against her skin as she met his tormented eyes. "You won't." He might not comprehend the visceral emotional response, but she did. And she wasn't frightened by it. She wasn't frightened by him. Releasing his hands, she reached up and plucked away the cap which shadowed his features. "You're still you."

Closing his eyes, he took steadying breaths. When she located his heartbeat through his fatigues, it thundered beneath her palm, illustrating further the physical toll of all of the stress he'd been carrying with him.

The lights winked out seemingly without cause, plunging them into darkness momentarily, and Briar felt the sudden loss of artificial gravity for a fraction of an instant before the ship's auxiliary power activated. Emergency lighting sprang to life and her weight resettled, lending the sensation of a particularly swift lift ride.

Whatever had happened, odds were not in favour of it being anything good.

John's hands fell away from her.


	17. In Darkness

"Run through it again, Roland," Lasky instructed _Infinity_ 's AI. He was looking far more drawn than he had when she'd spoken with him nine hours earlier.

Palmer stood to his left, arms folded and already armored in her GEN2. Her helmet rested on the holo-table occupied by the shipboard AI, who gave a very humanoid sigh before cueing up what appeared to be feed from one of the ship's external monitors. It displayed a magnified view of Sanghelios - from the look of it, the region surrounding Sunaion specifically. Except all was still. No ships patrolling the skies overheard, and no signs of life below.

"At approximately 2300 hours ship's time, an energy pulse of unknown composition knocked out all power on the planet, extending into the atmosphere to a radius of 300 klicks - which, as you probably noticed, includes us. Origination point seems to be somewhere in the Eastern quadrant of Sunaion. Ongoing interference with our scanners and comms is making it impossible to pinpoint the exact coordinates. Obviously, for the same reason, we don't know what the situation planetside is. It looks like, whatever it was, extensity of impact is relative to proximity to the source. Locations on the opposite face of the planet seem to have regained some forms of auxiliary power. But Sunaion itself is still dark at this time."

"We're trying to establish contact with the Kaidon and others, but like Roland mentioned, comms are spotty at best," Lasky tacked on. "As it stands, we've got every available hand working on getting us back fully online, but if we experience another of those pulses-"

"We can't let that happen," Palmer finished for him. "I'm taking a team down to find out what the hell's going on down there and stopping it."

Briar's attention remained on Lasky, however. "What's the latest from Osiris?"

"Caught up in a search and rescue mission. Some university prof who's been studying ruins went missing just after the battle, they got task-shifted to locate him before it stirs up trouble back home. We've been trying to raise them, but no luck yet."

"Brass made the call to put finding a wayward academic above arresting traitors," she clarified, just to be certain she understood correctly.

"It was part of the treaty talks. He was invited back when this all began, sort of an... extending of the olive branch. I was as stumped as you are to get the orders to relay, but there's still a lot of public unease surrounding the alliance. Best guess is government can't afford for word of his disappearance to spread and that to turn to unrest right after sticking our necks out for our new friends."

"Evan Phillips," Briar supplied, memory of the man's incessant chatter resurfacing.

Lasky nodded confirmation. "But they weren't reassigned until a few hours ago."

"Maybe." She shrugged. "Officially.".

"Why prioritize that over finding the two of you before now, even off the record?"

"I know Locke. He's no fool. There's no way he wouldn't have clued in to 'Vadam's stunt long before now." Palmer shook her head slowly. "It never made sense to send Osiris after the Chief, Tom. You know that. They've been dragging their feet down there for days. Why?"

"Sir, it's Dr. Halsey. She says it's urgent," the comms officer spoke into the prolonged pause.

Briar watched for John's reaction from the corner of her eye, not wishing to draw attention to the fact he'd yet to speak a word. His expression remained stoic, but she knew despite the outward appearance of control, he was still very much at odds with himself internally. And yet again he was being drawn into a conflict of someone else's design.

Dragging a hand over his face, Lasky nodded for the channel to be opened up. "Dr. Halsey, if this isn't strictly related to ship's operations-"

He got no further, and Halsey interrupted without a hint of remorse. "I trust identifying the source of our current troubles is relevant enough for you, Captain."

Palmer shot him a long-suffering glance at this lead in.

"I'm listening," he assured.

"It's been long suspected there are as yet undiscovered Forerunner relics and artifacts housed on Sanghelios. As a species, the Sangheili have always been possessed of more advanced technology than humans - but not, as we now understand, of their own development."

"Phillips specializes in Sangheili history. He can speak it, and most likely read it," Briar offered up. The pieces were beginning to click into place. "Whatever ruins he was studying when he disappeared could have pointed him to something better off left alone."

"I'm certain I don't need to impress upon you the dangers of such technology falling into the wrong hands, Captain Lasky."

"And what hands might that be, Doctor? Phillips is one of ours. A researcher, like you."

"Really," Halsey deadpanned. "He's capable of deciphering and comprehending the knowledge left behind by a profoundly advanced alien species, the breadth and scope of which we are still yet to fathom as a modern civilization?" She waited long enough for Lasky to fully realize the error of his comparison. "I would think, considering our current predicament, you may overestimate the professor."

"Fireteam Osiris has already been diverted to locate him," Palmer put in now.

"All the more reason for us to get a team on the ground," Halsey insisted. "The only thing worse than your 'researcher' accidentally triggering further pulses would be for the source to be claimed by those who might exploit it for nefarious purposes."

"Just to be clear, Ma'am, you're suggesting-"

"I'm not suggesting anything. As you know, since the fracturing of the Covenant forces and the tentative ceasefire between our kind, the Sangheili have made significant progress in their spacefaring technology. The common belief is, now that they're no longer at war with us, nor repressed by the constraints of religious dogma, they've begun truly studying those Forerunner relics they'd already discovered on their planet."

"And because of that alliance, we've been directly benefiting from their progress," Lasky reminded her.

"Directly, but the fear - if you wish to call it that - is, not proportionally. And in light of this suspicion, ONI has been quietly stoking the flames of the Sangheili civil conflict for years, to attempt to both slow the widening of that perceived knowledge gap, as well as to buy time to make discoveries of their own."

The bridge fell silent at her casual delivery of what amounted to a perhaps existence-threatening bombshell in which a sudden return to hostilities with the same aliens who'd been glassing entire worlds and murdering millions seemed very possible.

Briar turned to John and he held her gaze, but there was no spark of interest or even determination in his eye now. It was as though he was present in body and mind, but not spirit.

Lasky was the first to recover from the stupour of this revelation. "That sounds like a lot of conjecture. Since what we're discussing here amounts to subverting the government's authority, I have to ask - do you have _any_ proof?"

Although her insides were twisting into a painful knot at the numbness she sensed John was utilizing as a coping mechanism, Briar forced herself to focus.

"Why is it you think I was sent along with you, Captain?"

"I'm guessing you're going to tell me to deal with whatever it is that's down there."

"Which is precisely what I need to be doing unless you'd like to experience an uncontrolled drop from orbit. And since Osiris is now unable to retrieve me, I'm going to require an escort."

* * *

Seated beside John on the prowler, Briar did her best to push down her mounting apprehension over his demeanor. Once more encased in his Mark VI, he appeared every inch the warrior who'd saved humanity numerous times over. She didn't question whether he was combat ready. He was a Spartan. But she didn't know what sort of unanticipated reactions Halsey's presence on the mission might elicit in him.

Sitting across from them with Palmer to her left and Spartans Kamber and Lightfoot to her right, the gray-haired doctor's composed features provided no clues as to what went on within her brilliant and callous mind.

"T-three minutes to the search zone," the commander of the _Winter_ -class stealth ship announced from the bridge. Lasky had assigned the craft manned with its full five member, highly specialized crew in the hopes its hyperscan capability would aid in narrowing down the search area. Fortunately, all equipment _Infinity_ carried which had been powered down during the pulse, including ground and air vehicles, seemed to have been unaffected.

"And only a few dozen square klicks of haystack to slog through to find this needle if these guys can't pull off a better reading than _Infinity_ could," Kamber grumbled.

Lightfoot punched his comrade's shoulder. "I _know_ you're not whining already, Snoop. Why'd you even pick recon variant armor, all you do is bitch about it."

"Makes me look badass."

Both of them proceeded to shoot dubious glances in John's direction. Reconsidering that proclamation, Briar wagered. It might have been entertaining at any other time.

"Can it, both of you," Palmer warned them.

Between them, Halsey's expression was now one of distaste. Obviously, she was disenchanted with the comportment of the Spartan-IVs. And likely their selection criteria as well.

Before anyone could say anything else, the overhead lighting was extinguished and the prowler's interior fell ominously silent.

"We've lost engines - nav's down," the pilot apprised either them or his commander of the situation, as though it weren't plenty obvious.

"Everything's down," another of the crew blurted, sounding decidedly less calm than his counterpart.

"A second pulse," Halsey concluded, the eerie sound of air rushing past the hull the only noise now discernible apart from some frantic discussion and button pushing going on up in the cockpit.

Palmer cursed. "What's our status?"

"Bringing us down with manual flight controls, but it's not gonna be pretty. We weren't built to glide," came the eventual response.

"How far out from the search zone? Did we get any usable data?"

"Three klicks, give or take. And that's a negative, Ma'am. Now'd be the time to strap in back there."

"Fasten your seatbelt, doc, ride's about to get bumpy," Lightfoot chirped cheerfully as he and Kamber both donned their helmets and he reached out to help Halsey into her seat's harness.

For her part, Halsey slapped his hands away and proceeded to buckle herself in with no visible signs of anxiety over their impending rough landing.

Briar did likewise. They all did.

"Here we go. Brace, brace, brace," was the last thing she heard before all hell broke loose.

A cacophony of wrenching metal and jarring clangs accompanied the bone-rattling impact. They struck something of more substantial mass than they were and the ship was launched forward over its nose, slamming down onto the roof of the fuselage and entering a violent roll which threw Briar this way and that against her restraints. Objects torn loose by the crash flew around the cabin, battering her. Her HUD was throwing up one warning after another. Daylight suddenly pierced the darkness, disorienting her further as the prowler broke apart. The section she remained locked inside skid to an abrupt halt. Her own breathing was harsh in her ears. She turned her head to take in the situation.

John was already unstrapping himself beside her. The other side of the fuselage had been ripped away, Palmer, Halsey, Kamber, and Lightfoot nowhere in sight.

She reached for the buckles securing her and fumbled for a moment before successfully releasing herself and staggering up.

John had moved towards the cockpit, but there was nothing left of it. A jumble of warped steel jutted back through the bulkhead which had separated it from the cabin. None of the five person crew could have survived that.

Briar initiated a diagnostic run on her armor as she panned across their immediate surroundings. "Over there."

The other section of fuselage was just visible through a copse of spindly trees, both wings missing and barely recognizable as a spacecraft. They'd touched down in the forest bordering the city's Eastern quadrant, it seemed.

Starting in that direction, she dismissed the remaining warnings flashing on her HUD as the report came back listing only superficial damage to her MJOLNIR. It'd likely just saved her life again. And unlike the Spartan-IVs, Halsey wasn't wearing any.

John was following her, and she wondered what it would do to him if they found the woman dead.

Palmer was the first to come into view, looking none the worse for wear as she turned away from the wreckage at their approach. "Crew?" she prompted as she took in the two of them.

Briar shook her head.

Behind Palmer, Kamber knelt on the ground beside a reclining and pale Halsey. He was affixing a tourniquet to her arm, which even from a distance, appeared to have been mangled particularly badly. Blood soaked the side of her face, originating from a wide gash at her hairline.

"How bad?" Palmer questioned of Kamber as he attempted to doctor her wounds.

"She's stable, but-" Here he glanced back, jerking a thumb to Halsey's arm.

Briar was no medic, but she could hazard a guess about the limb's fate.

"What now?" Lightfoot put forth the question which was on all of their minds.

"Now, you do what we came here to do," Halsey answered, her voice much less tight with pain than one might expect. She pointed with her good hand to the satchel she'd carried onto the prowler when they'd boarded, and which she'd somehow retained possession of during the crash.

Lightfoot stooped and opened it, digging around inside a moment before drawing out a capsule. One which Briar immediately recognized the contents of. He glanced to Palmer uncertainly.

"That is the means by which you complete your task." Halsey's arm had dropped back to her side. It was evident she was weak despite her mental fortitude. "John-"

"No," Briar interrupted her, stalking forward. She snatched the capsule from Lightfoot. " _I_ have the package." She stared down at Halsey, daring the woman to object.

Her eyes flickered to where John stood motionless, observing them all in silence, and then back to Briar. "Have you been paired with an AI before, Spartan?"

"No. And I have no intentions of this being a first."

Halsey's brow furrowed. "If you don't link up, she'll be going in blind when you interface her with whatever it is we're dealing with to neutralize the threat." Seeing that Briar remained unmoved by this information, she switched tactics. "Assuming auxiliary power is now offline, as is most assuredly the case after that pulse, _Infinity_ has a limited amount of time. No propulsion systems and no environmentals. _Any_ delays could have detrimental impacts on the crew's survival."

"Sounds like we best get a move on, in that case," Lightfoot reasoned into the ensuing lull as Halsey and Briar regarded each other with equal indomitability over their respective standpoints.

"Your highest probability of success involves pairing with and utilizing that AI."

"Lots of bridges to cross between here and there," Palmer unexpectedly reminded.

Kamber groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Turns out it's your lucky day, Lightfoot. You get to stay with the patient." Stepping over to the crumpled section of the craft they'd been strapped into, she forced the armory compartment open. Pulling out a weapon, she tossed it to him. "Find cover and sit tight until contact with _Infinity_ 's reestablished."

"Copy that."

"Don't move her too much," Kamber warned him as he straightened up and accepted a rifle as well.

Once they were all armed, they set out.


	18. 2lbs Shy of a Bomb

"What do you have?"

"Besides blisters, ma'am? Squat," Kamber supplied.

Palmer sighed and turned in a slow circle. They'd been combing the quadrant Roland had narrowed the origination point of the pulse down to for well over two hours. So far, they hadn't crossed paths with any Sangheili. Sunaion seemed to have been deserted. The wreckage of alien and human crafts alike littered the ground along with all manner of other detritus from the recent fighting, but the corpses of the fallen had been removed. In certain areas the rubble had begun to be cleared, but it was clear something had interrupted the process.

"My equipment's fritzing as bad as _Infinity_ 's. We might've walked past the place a hundred times by now and there's no guarantee I'd pick it up. Whatever that thing is, it's disrupting every signal on every wavelength and frequency I've tried so far."

"What you're telling me is I should have left your useless ass with the doctor."

"I'm just as broken up about it as you are, commander."

Briar could feel their gazes shift to where she'd paused to examine a crater some ordnance or other had created upon impact during the battle. The capsule was attached to her lower back. She glanced to John.

So far, he'd proven willing to simply follow along as Palmer took the lead. She'd been careful not to issue either he or Briar any direct orders despite outranking them, but on the other hand, they were experienced enough not to require them. John was a man of few words, but there was no doubt in Briar's mind Palmer at the very least was aware all was not right with him. Fortunately, she'd kept it to herself thus far.

Now, however, she walked over. "Look, I wouldn't be keen to plug anything she had her hands on into my brain either, but we're running low on time and options here."

"What do you have against her?" Briar couldn't help asking, even if it didn't make much difference, or any at all.

"You hear some chatter after you've been around the block as many times as I have." Palmer shrugged. "Before all this, I would've said ONI wouldn't have arrested her for no reason. Now…" Her helmet turned towards John.

"There are reasons enough for her to never see the light of day again." Briar stowed her carbine and detached the capsule from her belt. She twisted the two halves to unlock it, removing the data crystal chip nestled within. Blue light pulsed at its core. Reaching back, she located the slot at the rear of her helmet and slid it in.

' _AI data chip detected,_ ' appeared on her HUD, followed shortly by, ' _Establish neural link?_ '

Exhaling slowly, she approved the link. She wasn't certain what to expect from the pairing, but apart from some of the parameters changing on her HUD and a notification confirming successful link-up, nothing felt obviously different.

"You're not Sierra-117," a female voice observed through her MJOLNIR's internal audio outputs.

Briar tamped down on the urge to rip her helmet off, extricate the chip and shatter it into a thousand pieces at this simple statement. Apparently Halsey had been priming the thing to partner up with John, completely taking it for granted he'd accept the new AI. "No. Are you or are you not apprised of the mission objective?"

"I'm fully aware of the situation, Lieutenant."

She needed to remember this thing knew everything its creator did, which probably included some or all of the aspects of her past that had been blotted out from the eyes of most everyone else. "We need to find the source of those pulses, but it's interfering with our gear."

"If the rate of degradation of Spartan Kamber's scans is directly proportional to proximity to the source, we can use that to calculate probable location."

Briar looked to the officer. "Send me over everything you've gotten so far."

Kamber turned to Palmer first, who waved a hand for him to go ahead.

The AI accepted the file transfer the moment it flashed onto her HUD, which unsettled her more than it perhaps should have considering she was aware it now had full access to her MJOLNIR and everything that entailed. She refused to ask what it was called. The second they'd rendered whatever piece of Forerunner tech was responsible for the debilitating pulses inoperable, that chip would be ejected. "Supplying estimated coordinates now."

Briar forwarded them along to the others.

"How sure are we about this?" Palmer questioned.

Briar nodded towards Kamber, who'd found a spot to take a load off and was using his combat knife to pry loose a few stones which had wedged themselves into the treads of the armored boots encasing his feet. "Would you rather keep following him around?"

With a small shake of her head, Palmer stepped closer and lowered her voice. "What about the Chief?"

"300 Spartans to choose from on _Infinity_ , _that_ guy makes your cut, and you're really going to ask me about the Master Chief?"

"He's been on autopilot since you walked onto the bridge to be briefed and you know it," Palmer insisted. For all that, her tone was not accusatory. "I just need to know his head's going to be in the game if things go sideways."

"Always."

* * *

"Here."

"I've got nothin'," Kamber supplied.

"Exactly." Briar surveyed the immediate vicinity, nothing much standing out from the tableau of the aftermath of intense battle.

"The presence of ancient aqueducts beneath other Sangheili cities presents a likely option," the AI offered up.

Kamber gestured to the debris surrounding them. "Could take a while to locate an access point beneath all this."

"Which is why we'll make our own." Palmer removed a few of the charges she'd carried on her belt specifically in case they encountered such a situation. They'd known Phillips was studying ruins, so it'd seemed a safe bet explosives might be required either for infil or exfil. She set them in a triangular pattern and they all retreated to a safe distance. "Firing on my mark. 3, 2, 1-"

The blast threw up stones and a fine mist of sediment which tinkled off their armor as it settled back down through the air.

"All clear," Palmer announced as she strode forward.

The resulting tunnel was wide enough for them to drop through comfortably one at a time, which they did. Inside, the aqueduct remained whole, a channel which had seemingly been carved from the porous rock which water even now seeped through. The splashes of their footsteps echoed the length of the passage as they looked around.

"Which way?" Kamber questioned.

Palmer glanced to Briar.

"Suggestions?" she prompted the AI.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Lieutenant."

"We split up, then," Palmer decided. She hesitated as she looked between Briar and John. "If what Halsey said is true, there's every possibility Osiris is down here somewhere. You two go together and I can't guarantee they won't execute their orders on sight if they come across you."

It was a fair point. If she and John paired off with Kamber and Palmer, it was possible the Spartan-IVs would be able to talk Osiris down from their mission, perhaps explain the footage had been called into question and the results of John's tox screen. They didn't have a personal stake in the matter and Palmer was respected enough to have been granted command of _Infinity_ 's Spartan detachment.

Briar gave a nod before she could think better of it. "Kamber, with me." She trusted Palmer to do what she could to maintain John's freedom. The other woman may have had no qualms making her distrust for Briar known, but she'd shown nothing but respect for him, and it was clear she backed Lasky's decision to intervene with ONI on John's behalf.

Starting down the aqueduct in the opposite direction from John, she shoved away the unease of separating from him and activated the spotlights on her helmet as darkness closed in around her and Kamber.

"Is now a good time to ask what I'm doing riding with you, Lieutenant?"

Kamber, moving along to her right and slightly behind, didn't react to the question, so Briar assumed it had only been broadcast on her internal speakers. "What you were brought down here to do."

"I was expecting-"

"I know what you were expecting," she cut off the AI. "Circumstances changed. I notice you haven't asked about Halsey."

"She explained the situation and the task she may require me to complete. I assume she was unable to accompany you."

"Doesn't matter. You'll be the first to know when I need you - be ready. Until then, don't distract me." She could hear Kamber attempting and failing to complete a comms check with Palmer.

"We're on our own from here out, interference is too strong," he concluded.

They'd rounded a few bends in the channel by this time, bypassing smaller passages they would have struggled to fit inside. They just had to hope whatever artifact was creating the pulses was too large to have been stored down one of them as well.

Briar slowed as the beam of her lights fell across the sizable cavern the aqueduct flowed into. A reservoir?

Kamber approached the drop off and checked it out. "10 metres, give or take," he guesstimated before stepping off the ledge.

She heard the splash as he landed, judged there not to be more than a metre or so of water below, and followed suit, bending her legs to aid her armor in absorbing the impact. They slogged to higher ground, spotlights flashing around the chamber as they searched for signs of any alien tech.

"Over there." Jogging ahead, Kamber illuminated a ring of metalloid pillars.

"Those are Forerunner glyphs," the AI provided as the foreign symbols encircling the pillars became visible.

Briar had just stepped up to one in order for the AI to decipher it when she heard Kamber jerk his weapon up.

"Contact."

"Hold your fire," Tanaka shouted as she, Vale, and Buck appeared from the darkness.

Briar had whirled at Kamber's warning, her MA5B raised.

With one hand supporting his rifle, Kamber raised the other to show he didn't intend to engage them. "Stand down, Osiris. We're here on Captain Lasky's orders."

"The last I heard, Admiral trumps Captain," Buck pointed out, though he'd stopped a healthy distance from Kamber and Briar. Probably recalling their last encounter.

"Where's Spartan Locke?" Kamber demanded.

"Fireteam Osiris, this is Spartan Commander Palmer! Stand down!" echoed throughout the cavern as the entrance to a second passageway lit by Palmer's helmet separated itself from the gloom.

Everyone's focus wavered, split between two sources, and Briar sensed someone slip from behind the pillar now at her back an instant before white hot pain lanced her lower back. She threw her elbow backwards, felt it connect with something solid and an answering grunt, but before she could pivot to face her attacker a jarring kick to the back of her knee took her off balance. Something thunked against the armor protecting her shoulder blades and a warning about an external override flashed onto her HUD as her MJOLNIR seized up. She retained the MA5B, but was powerless to use it as the muzzle of an M6H2 was shoved into the side of her helmet.

"With all due respect, our mission is above your paygrade, Ma'am," Locke spoke into the stunned silence which ensued.

Palmer had emerged from the tunnel with John only a beat behind her, and he took several menacing steps forward as the rest of Osiris whipped around from covering Kamber to point their rifles at him instead.

"Hold, 117!" Locke flipped the safety off on the sidearm. "I have the authority to execute your accomplice if you resist further, and I _will_ put a round in her skull."

"Do not open fire!" Palmer commanded, though whether it was meant for Locke, the rest of Osiris, John, or Kamber wasn't clear.

Tanaka and Buck were simultaneously shouting for John to stop advancing, to stand down and throw down his weapons.

He wasn't complying.

On her HUD, Briar noted with alarm the prompt to deploy her drag shoot had been selected. It shot out in a rush of compressed pneumatic components, having been repaired and repacked by the Sangheili mechs, and the force of the deployment was enough to both knock the armor lock disc from the exosuit and send Locke staggering backwards into the pillar he'd hidden behind. The M6H2 went off, the bullet gouging a furrow in her helmet, but ultimately its trajectory was redirected enough by his fall not to penetrate. She immediately pivoted to put him in her sights, the very real and needling pain from the knife yet lodged in her back pushed to the periphery of her senses in order to deal with the ongoing threat. Her MJOLNIR automatically shed the chute.

When Locke collided with it, the impact triggered a glow from within the pillar. The flowing Forerunner script was holographically projected into the air at the centre of the ring, and several of the other pillars also lit up.

"It's been activated, hurry," the AI who may or may not have just saved her life urged.

Behind her, John had engaged with the other members of Osiris. It wasn't a confrontation he was going to lose, despite the fact he was once again refraining from using deadly force. Those bullets which missed his shields flew around the cavern, embedding in its relatively soft walls and causing large chunks of rock to break free and crash down.

One such bombardment took Palmer out as she rushed to intercede, and Kamber - who'd opened up on Locke as he'd recovered from his tumble, pinning the other Spartan-IV behind the pillar - shot a glance to Briar.

"I've got this," she assured so that he would go dig his commander out from beneath the pile. She stepped towards the ring of pillars, firing on Locke the moment he leaned out to do the same. "I don't see anything accessible."

"If there are no ports, you may need to follow my guidance and do it yourself."

Spotting a body on the ground as she circled the pillars to continue searching for a point of access for the AI, she grimaced. Half of Phillips' skin and clothes appeared to have been melted away. "Sounds like just the sort of thing I want to do," she muttered while reaching around and yanking the combat knife from her back. She cocked her arm and when Locke rolled out from the opposite side of the pillar he was taking cover behind, she let fly the blade, knowing he'd be expecting weapons fire.

As predicted, he broke off from pounding her shields with rounds in order to whip his rifle up to deflect the knife.

"Dropping blood pressure levels indicate the likelihood you are experiencing internal bleeding is high, Lieutenant."

Briar squeezed off a barrage of her own as she continued to track around the outside of the ring, being mindful not to hit the Forerunner tech. She needed to keep him distracted long enough to prevent the artifact from firing another pulse. At this proximity, she had no idea what it might do to their MJOLNIR, but Phillips had clearly suffered deleterious effects. Had Osiris already been present for that, or had they arrived afterwards?

"There!" The AI zeroed in on a slot in one of the pillars on her HUD as her shield integrity dipped below 50%.

Something barrelled into her, throwing her to the ground, her MA5B trapped beneath her. She rolled to bring it up, but the air before her distorted slightly and the stock was knocked back into the dirt as she pulled the trigger, the weapon crunching beneath a considerable weight which also trapped her hand.

An energy sword flared to life a moment before the Zealot who wielded it dropped his active camouflage. He loomed above, snarling down at Briar, and ground his foot into the mangled rifle further, crushing her fingers.

To the side, she could see two more Elites had ambushed Locke.

Releasing the MA5B with her still free hand, she was able to roll clear of the energy sword as its twin tips descended, though her pinned arm kept her from escaping fully or rising. Now on her back, as the Zealot roared his frustration and swept his arm back for the killing blow, she wrenched her body around at the same time she threw her legs up to halt his swing. One foot planted against his torso, the other his arm, preventing him from having the reach required to connect with her. Brandishing her sidearm, she peppered him at point black range and kicked him backwards, freeing her arm.

Before he could resume his assault, another Sangheili was hurled into him, and they landed in a jumble of limbs and sizzling energy blades.

Briar scrambled up, sparing a glance to the rest of the chamber where a further dozen aliens had now appeared to harry Osiris, who'd left off from their futile skirmish with John to deal with them. He'd already disarmed the fireteam members, so they were forced to face the Elites and Ultras without weaponry.

John, himself, was on a warpath. He succinctly obliterated the Sangheili foolish enough to get in his way as he advanced on Locke, who'd just finished putting down his own opponents.

"Lieutenant-"

"I know," Briar interrupted the AI as she closed the distance to the control pillar. She switched her M6C to her bruised hand and removed the chip from her helmet, fitting it into the port just as a low drone began to emanate from the ring. As feared, her HUD flickered inauspiciously. Hoping the AI had time to deactivate the artifact before it fired another pulse, she put her back to the column and strafed an Elite who'd been approaching an unaware Kamber while he was busy pulling Palmer from the rubble. It didn't stop the alien, but it gave the Spartan-IV opportunity to turn and manage it himself.

Sections of the cavern continued to break free and collapse, seemingly of their own volition now. Stability of the reservoir was obviously deteriorating.

Pins and needles were also creeping into her extremities, the telltale numbness as sure a sign of her plummeting blood pressure as the readout from her suit.

Another cloaked Sangheili charged in, the glow of his dual energy blades streaking through the darkness catching her eye.

Springing away from the control pillar to save it from being damaged, Briar leapt over his arcing weapons, emptying her M6C's magazine into his shields. While still mid-air, she drew her knife and dropped her spent sidearm in order to grasp it with both hands, and plunged the blade into the Ultra's skull as she landed atop him. Her momentum carried them both to the ground.

The portentous hum of the artifact died away, so too the light from within its pillars.

"Osiris, fall back! This thing's coming down!" Palmer hollered, once again upright and looking none the worse for her ordeal apart from the dust coating her GEN2. "Master Chief!"

Briar straightened, leaving her knife embedded in the expired Sangheili as she looked to where John and Locke had engaged.

The latter's rifle lay busted into pieces in the dirt, but he'd taken up one of the fallen Elites' energy swords and was using it to keep an unarmed John at bay.

Undeterred by his supposed disadvantage, John continued to press forward, dodging the lethal weapon with supreme indifference for its ability to pierce his armor like a hot knife through butter. He forced Locke to retreat time and again as he closed in, the Spartan-IV intelligent enough to realize - no doubt as a result of their first encounter - allowing John inside his guard would not end well.

A portion of the ceiling slammed down beside Briar, prompting her to hurry back to the control column to retrieve the AI. "John, we need to go!" Ripping the data chip from the port, she missed the slot at the back of her helmet and cursed her increasingly uncooperative fingers, trying again.

John had not desisted. He surged in as Locke teed up another swing, his hand closing on the other's wrist and forestalling the stroke. Squeezing with brutal force, he compressed the fireteam leader's joint until the energy sword slipped from his grip, drawing a strangled growl of pain from him in the process. Without releasing him, John curled back his other arm, hand fisted to strike.

"John!" Briar called in warning as more rock crumbled from above.

Osiris was racing towards the combatants, clearly unwilling to leave without their leader.

The Sangheili which weren't down were fleeing.

Palmer was still shouting orders to evacuate the cavern.

John's fist flew forward, pulverizing a sizable boulder as it passed between them on its descent from the roof before plowing into Locke's helmet.

The smaller man's head snapped back, but he managed to recoil with an impressive kick to the arm restraining him, successfully breaking free from John's hold - which did nothing to prevent the already returning fist from connecting ruthlessly with his helmet once again. The impact tore the thing from his shoulders, sending it bouncing across the ground as he stumbled and regained his balance. He reached for his sidearm, but John snatched the gun from him as he brought it to bear and flung it away all in the same motion. "You're not helping your case by failing to yield, 117. Submit and face court martial like a man," Locke insisted in spite of his losing status. "Keep running, and I _will_ find you."

"I'm not running." John knocked aside the answering punch, locking his arms around the Spartan-IV's torso and effectively pinning one arm to the other man's side.

Having jammed the chip into her helmet once more, Briar haphazardly skirted falling debris to try to reach the two before Osiris. She was closer. Her gaze was riveted to the scene as John ignored every attempt Locke made at extricating himself while he tightened his hold, impossibly constricting materials which were not made to flex. When Locke's free hand grasped at his helmet in an attempt to rip it off, he unwaveringly headbutted the other despite his unprotected state.

Locke's head rocked back yet again, though this time the blow smashed his nose in a fountain of blood. He bellowed his agony as John crushed him, the blue lights throughout his GEN2 dimming and intensifying alarmingly under the strain.

Osiris were all yelling as they closed in.


	19. No Glory

Whether he would have stopped or whether the onslaught of stones which let loose, clipping his shoulder as they thundered down, were what saved Locke's life, only John would know. They struck hard enough to buffet him sideways, and he released his opponent, allowing the Spartan-IV to crumple into the dirt at his feet.

"John!" Briar grasped his arm as she reached them, but cursed at the condition of the man on the ground. She bent and hooked her fingers inside the titanium plating covering Locke's shoulders, determined to drag him to safety despite the literal knife he'd driven into her back. If he died as a result of the altercation with John- she couldn't let that happen. Whatever fury or contempt were coursing hot through John's veins right now would cool and be replaced by guilt.

Stones pelted their armor and the dust suspended in the air from all of the falling debris made navigating the crumbling chamber onerous. To make matters worse, she was battling lightheadedness and her vision was beginning to blur. The intelligent gel-layer of her bodysuit had altered its density to apply pressure to her wound, which was largely preventing her from bleeding out, but it could do nothing for the internal damage.

Locke groaned as he was hauled across the dirt. It was impossible to guess the extent of his injuries, but he hadn't bothered insisting he could move under his own power.

Buck, Vale, and Tanaka swept in and Briar let go, having no remorse for the way the ONI operative's upper body thunked down when she did so. "We have to go, we have to go now." All around them, the cavern was collapsing.

John didn't resist, fortunately. Turning, he left Osiris to deal with their incapacitated leader as he followed her the remainder of the distance to the mouth of the tunnel Kamber and Palmer waited inside.

The Spartan-IV fireteam wasn't far behind, with Buck toting Locke over his shoulder.

"Dr. Halsey won't be pleased about the artifact," the AI spoke up for the first time since Briar had retrieved it from the control pillar, catching her off guard.

"Tough," she replied tersely, staying tight on John's six as Palmer took the lead down the aqueduct. Halsey had bigger concerns if her suspicions about the older woman's arm were correct. Besides which, Lasky had been adamant that their mission was to deactivate the Forerunner device, not recover it. Removing the ancient tech from the Sangheili homeworld without their knowledge or permission would have set off a shitstorm.

"It's not a weapon. Those pulses - they should have been harmless. Dr. Phillips appeared to have thrown off the calibration."

Briar grimaced. As though Halsey needed more to bolster her ego. "What are you saying?"

"It's a beacon. The pulses were a signal."

" _Infinity_ to Fireteam Mythos, how do you copy?" sounded through her comms suddenly.

"Solid copy, _Infinity_ ," Palmer was quick to answer as they rushed through the passage.

The fact they'd been able to reestablish contact made Briar hopeful _Infinity_ hadn't suffered any major issues as a result of their time offline and adrift in orbit.

"Awaiting your sitrep, Mythos."

As Palmer rattled off the relevant details, Briar dismissed the heart rate warning from her HUD.

"Lieutenant, with these vitals, loss of consciousness is eminent." The AI highlighted her dangerously low blood pressure readings, which she also dismissed.

They were nearing a juncture, and Palmer jogged down the adjoining passage with confidence. She and John had found an alternate route to the chamber, so Briar was content to follow in their wake and throw all of her concentration into _not_ passing out.

Tanaka trotted along behind her, but she judged the Spartan-IV smart enough not to try anything in the enclosed space - not after witnessing the wrath John had directed towards their team leader. A grudging sort of truce seemed to have been established, at least for the time being.

A few turns later and light filtered down from the hole they'd blown to infil. Kamber leapt up first as Palmer stepped aside to wait for the rest of them.

Briar waited for John to follow him, but when her turn came, fatigue and pain caused her to miscalculate her jump. She threw her arms out to grab the edge, which broke away beneath her weight, forcing her to scramble for purchase on the loose rocks, her legs kicking uselessly in the air. Her peripherals blackened as a wave of vertigo washed over her.

John's helmet appeared a moment before he seized her arm. He heaved her up to solid ground, started to release her, then thought better of it when she staggered. "You're injured," he said, the first words he'd spoken to her since the power had failed in the corridor on _Infinity_. It was more an accusation than a conclusion.

"Something like that." There was no point denying it. She tried to push away from him as the others appeared one by one, but his arm encircled her torso, hand latching onto the armor beneath her armpit to offer her stability. Aggrieved, but too weary to protest, she allowed it.

* * *

Incessant bleating was the first environmental stimulus to accost her senses upon regaining consciousness.

"...coming out of anesthesia," someone complained.

"Then administer more," came the curt response. "It's a swamp in here, I'm still looking for the bleeder."

"Vitals are deteriorating."

"Start another transfusion."

Everything felt numb and she couldn't be certain if her eyes were open and she simply could not see, or whether they remained closed.

"Pushing more sedative."

"Keep that vat-kidney on standby, if I can't get this hemorrhage under control soon-"

The sentence wasn't completed, but neither did it need to be.

She slipped back under.

* * *

She didn't know what to expect from death, but the nasty chemical aroma of sterilizing agent which filled her nostrils seemed to hint at a different fate.

"Briar."

That voice. John's voice.

Eyelids flickering, she managed to convince them to open long enough to take in the blurry figure looming above. She tried to speak, swallowed, then tried again. "I might see where you're coming from with the whole name thing," she eventually rasped.

His features weren't distinguishable owing to her unfocused gaze, but he lifted his hand towards her face, his fingers brushing her jaw very carefully.

She closed her eyes for a moment to summon the energy to reassure him she was fine. Before she could, she heard the sounds of others entering the room.

John's hand left her cheek as he stepped back. "What's her status?" he questioned of whoever it was.

"As long as the new organ isn't rejected, she should be back on her feet in a day or two."

Briar struggled to reopen her eyes. Fingers were prodding her. Fingers that definitely did not belong to John.

"What's that?" It was a demand this time, his tone laced with suspicion.

"Just some more sedatives. Better to keep her out until we know one way or the other about the kidney." She had to give it to the guy misfortunate enough to have been assigned her as a patient, he sounded only mildly terrified of the Spartan-II no doubt staring him down.

But she didn't want to be put back under. Her eyes were no longer cooperating, nor the rest of her body, it seemed. "John…" she slurred, or thought she did.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Voices mumbled nearby when she next woke. The words were muffled, as though her ears had been stuffed full of cotton balls.

Some piece of monitoring equipment chirped an alert to her stirring state. The conversation broke off, and someone approached.

They'd put lubricating gel in her eyes to protect them and she had to blink furiously to attempt to clear her vision of the filmy, clouded quality it created. A shadowed presence once again stood vigil at her bedside. "John," she said, the name past her lips before her sluggish brain had a chance to catch up with her senses, which were already telling her something was off. Whoever it was, wasn't substantial enough to be Spartan.

"...notify me when the drugs started to wear off," Lasky was telling her as her hearing finally adjusted.

"Why?" With everything that had transpired lately, she could well imagine the captain had his hands full. So what was he doing checking up on her?

Lasky shot a meaningful look to the other man in the room - her doctor, she presumed - and they were left alone. "Because I thought it'd be best if I was the one to tell you the Chief's in the brig," he supplied, his tone contrite but his expression resolute.

Briar digested this in silence.

He waited for a response, but when none was forthcoming, he went on. "After Commander Palmer and Warrant Officer Kamber were debriefed, along with Fireteam Osiris-"

Her throat felt raw from whatever tubes they'd shoved down it, but that didn't stop the outrage which was brewing inside her from spewing out. "I'm about thirty seconds from earning myself a spot in the brig, Sir, so if what you're trying to tell me is that John put his life on the line _again_ for this ship, for _you_ , and you're going to take their word over-"

"Over what? He didn't deny any of it," Lasky interrupted her, pinching the bridge of his nose as though battling a headache, which he likely was. "I gave him the opportunity, and he didn't deny a thing. Jameson Locke's got a fractured skull and intracranial swelling."

Her eyes narrowed menacingly. "He stuck a knife in me."

"I know - I understand, trust me. And until I can verify his orders, he's under guard as well."

"Until you can verify whether he's got the green light to kill me?" Briar repeated for clarification as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Lasky's sigh was full of turmoil. "Buck, Tanaka, and Vale are on the record as having no knowledge of that objective." He looked for a moment as though he might suggest she lay back down, but paced away from the bed instead.

"If you tell me you were expecting anything else, I'm going to know I was wrong about you, Captain." Wrong to put her faith in him.

"Sar- Commander Palmer believes them."

"Locke had no reason to make that claim if it wasn't true. ONI was never planning to arrest me." She could see it when he turned back - he'd wanted to keep on believing the lie, even after the recording she'd given him of everything. "John trusted you," she bit it out as though betraying that trust was the worst transgression imaginable. And it was. What was nearly as bad was that she'd allowed John's faith in Lasky to temper her own better judgement.

He visibly flinched at the condemnation before his back straightened. "I'm making arrangements to get you off-"

"I won't go without him."

"-to get you both off of the ship," he finished. "In case I'm not able to sort this out before they send someone else." To take care of her, was what he meant, but didn't say.

Briar was far from appeased. "Why lock him up if you're going to cut us loose?"

"Honestly?" Lasky swallowed. "Because when I asked him about what happened, about what he'd done to Locke - he wasn't the Master Chief anymore. The look that came over him - he was more like a... vengeful god. And he wasn't remorseful about it." He shook his head slowly. "I thought- I hoped it would be safer for all involved if he was contained."

Having heard enough, she kicked away the sheet covering her from the waist down.

"You're not cleared to be up yet," he protested as she slid off the bed to the angry beeps of the medical equipment.

Her back twinged a complaint at her upright posture, but Briar simply began plucking off the various wireless electrodes plastered to her skin, which resulted in further and angrier beeping.

The door to the room slid open, her doctor lingering there instead of entering either because of or in spite of the scene before him.

"I want clothes and then I want you to take me to him." Dropping the last electrode to the floor, she fixed her gaze on Lasky. "Sir."


	20. Brig Interlude

"-won't fade away, I'll be pushin' on. Til the rivers run dry, I've got to try, try, try. I'll be pushin' on."

Briar might have been amused by the off-key bawling which greeted them the moment the heavy doors to the brig opened to admit them had the circumstances been different.

"Til my dying day, I won't give it all away. I'll be pushin' on," the drunken captive continued from somewhere down the aisle of holding cells as Lasky walked in beside her.

He shot the two officers milling by the master control panel a pointed look and one promptly peeled away, heading down the aisle.

She followed, checking each barren internment cubicle until she came across the one she was searching for.

John sat on the edge of the bunk, it being abundantly obvious he could never hope to actually lay down on the thing. His forearms rested atop his thighs as he leaned forward, staring at nothing, the black and charcoal cap casting his features in shadow.

"Til the rivers run dry, I've got to try, try, try. I'll be-"

"Can it, soldier," the security officer barked, silencing the raucous crooning.

There was no telling how long John had been subject to it.

Sighing, she rapped a knuckle against one of the bars. "Room for one more in there?" Lasky hadn't precisely agreed to release John, not before he'd made whatever arrangements he was working on to get them off _Infinity_ and out of ONI's grasp were ready, but there was no way she was leaving him there.

Turning his head, John regarded her a moment. Pain, raw and unguarded, flashed through his troubled eyes. He got up, but didn't approach.

Lasky had come down the aisle, pausing behind Briar. "Open it."

The bars over half the opening slid back in answer, the officer who'd remained stationed at the control panel complying with the order.

She stepped inside with confidence. Met his steely stare, so full of all the things he'd never been encouraged or permitted to express or experience.

Outside the cell, Lasky cleared his throat. "You'll be free to go when the time comes, but until then, I…" He must have trailed off when he realized neither of them was paying him any attention. "I am sorry, Chief." His footsteps receded soon thereafter and the bars slid closed again.

"You shouldn't be here," John spoke up, the words lacking any real conviction.

Instead of pointing out that he shouldn't either, Briar moved to him and took his hand into her own. The knuckles had scabbed over and were dark with bruising from hitting the bulkhead. She skimmed her fingers over them softly. He'd very nearly killed Locke with these hands, and nothing else. Looking up, she noted he was watching her with expectation.

Waiting. Waiting for her judgement. For her to tell him what he'd done had been wrong.

"Chances are that bunk's not going to hold the both of us," she observed instead, glancing to it, and then back to him. "Good thing you don't mind the floor."

The lines feathering his eyes crinkled slightly as he attempted to decide what to make of her comment, which clearly wasn't what he'd been anticipating.

"Come on, John," Briar pressed him. "Give me something." She released his hand, gathering two fistfuls of his fatigues and pulling, forcing him to be the one to close the distance between them. "I still see you."

He shook his head. "I'm not the same."

"You don't have to be."

"You're not listening - I lost control," John snapped in agitation, leaning back to break contact with her.

As opposed to fighting to keep him close, she moved with him, shoving him back into the wall so there was nowhere left to retreat.

He was glaring now, resentful of her unwillingness to give him space, to acknowledge his lapse in discipline - his brokenness. "I don't want this, I don't want to feel this." He could not be an effective soldier this way, he couldn't even be trusted.

"This is you," she informed him. "This is what you were always meant to be, this is human."

"I'm not-" His jaw had tightened in defiance of her claim, but he didn't know how to finish the assertion.

Briar pushed into him, feeling the absolute rigidity of his body, the tension which ruled it. "It's not a choice you get to make." She slid one hand up and around to the back of his neck, every muscle tight beneath her fingers. Lightly digging them in, she began to coax some suppleness into him. "It's frustrating, and messy, and inefficient." By rising up onto her toes, she was able to brush her lips over his chin. "It's terrifying and thrilling."

John's arms remained by his sides and he mulishly refused to lower his head to where she could more easily reach him.

"And you never figure it out, not really," she murmured, grazing his throat with her teeth as her other hand quested lower, between them. Certain appendages were feeling cooperative even if he overall wasn't. When he grabbed her arm to pull it away, she gripped him through his clothes in warning and raised a brow. "I wouldn't."

Savage blue eyes burned into her own.

Her heart was in her throat as she delivered her ultimatum. "Tell me to stop, John. Tell me you don't want this, any of it. I'll never touch you again." If that was what he wanted, she'd respect it. If he wanted to return to being no more than the impenetrable suit of military hardware they'd crafted him into. Even if it tore her apart inside.

His heart was hammering, she could feel it against her own chest. A small eternity seemed to stretch out before he gave into her gentle but insistent ministrations and dropped his head, seeking her mouth. In spite of his state of both turmoil and semi-arousal, he kissed her with tenderness and restraint, slowly. When his hands went to her back, one of them landing against the thick bandage covering her injury and subsequent operation site, his lips broke from hers.

Seeing that he seemed to be aware this was neither the time nor place for sexual interludes even if his body wasn't, Briar returned her one hand to his chest while the fingers of the other scraped through the hair at his nape. "Having your own organs is overrated anyway." She didn't feel much, the pain meds yet to wear off.

John grunted at the flippant comment. She hadn't yet caught a glimpse of herself, but according to the list of procedures which had been performed that her doctor had prattled on about in his attempts to coerce her back into her sickbed, many litres of donor blood had been required, so she could imagine she was pale as shit. Still, he didn't comment. Not on that. "I could have killed him." It wasn't stated in anger, just a fact.

"Did you want to?"

"Yes." Just as Lasky had claimed, there was no hint of regret or contrition in his voice.

She raised a brow. "Why didn't you, then?"

He released a pent up breath and closed his eyes, head falling back against the dull metal wall with a thud. "I don't know."

"I think you do."

* * *

They stepped onto the hangar bay deck, not as prisoners, but as Spartans. Unarmed but for their MJOLNIR - which was more than enough.

The slice which had fully penetrated Briar's multi-layer bodysuit had been repaired and with the drugs beginning to metabolize, the pressure against her wound was uncomfortable. And still she walked beside John, towards the awaiting pelican, with an unfaltering stride.

A small party had gathered to see them off. Palmer stood beside Lasky in her uniform, her expression tight, but no longer with mistrust. Judging from their body language, they were in disagreement about something.

Beyond them, she was surprised to see her doctor waiting, fidgeting as he did so. It was evident he was out of his element by the way he kept casting glances around and adjusting his stance.

One other waited, slightly apart from the rest. Briar didn't recognize him, but he was wearing the same style fatigues she and John had been issued during their time onboard. Her attention was drawn back when Lasky was the first to speak.

"I won't lie, I wish the circumstances were anything but this," he began. He looked to have aged a decade in the short time since she'd last seen him even though _Infinity_ was now out of the woods, back to being the fully operational warship messiah of the UNSC that she was. "The Kaidon knows we were down there without his knowledge or permission, probably about the Forerunner artifact as well though he hasn't said it yet, and he's not pleased."

It was on the tip of Briar's tongue to ask if he needed someone to hold his hand, but he went on.

"Master Chief, I know I have no right to ask you this, but if you hold any sway at all with 'Vadam… we can't afford ten steps back with the peace treaty. If you are in contact with him-"

"That isn't likely, Sir," John interrupted, an oddity in and of itself.

Lasky appeared somewhat caught off guard by it as well, but shut his mouth and gave a solemn nod. "I'm going to try to make this right." He gestured to the pelican. "Supplies for an extended leave including weapons and ammo. Should be everything you need to lay low."

John was silent a moment. "Dr. Halsey?"

"Stable. They had to amputate, but she's looking at a full recovery."

"Lightfoot said she never stopped complaining about mission effectiveness the whole time they were waiting for evac," Palmer supplied dryly.

John didn't respond, so Lasky waved the doctor forward.

"Immuno-suppressants," he explained of the cartridge he extended towards Briar. "I was assured your MJOLNIR is capable of administering the correct dosage. It'll prevent your body from rejecting the new kidney."

Accepting it, she popped open the port in the titanium plated bracer on her left arm and slid the cartridge into the delivery system located there.

"I really cannot stress enough that you shouldn't be returning to combat yet." With a quick and perhaps semi-chastising look to the captain, he quit the hangar floor.

"Bones - there's no pleasing 'em," the unknown Spartan piped up, revealing his identity as he did so.

Lasky and Palmer turned towards him, the latter's eyes darting between John and Buck.

For his part, John did nothing more than turn his helmet minimally to take in the other.

Still, Buck raised his hands placatingly. "Had my fill of dancing with you two, trust me. I just came to say, we got the short end of the stick with those orders. Nobody wanted to be the ones to bring the Master Chief in, but we did what we were told to do. Never liked it. And we were never given the green light to execute anyone."

"What about the artifact?" Briar prompted.

"Retrieve Dr. Phillips and any research he was working on, including finds. That was the modified assignment." Buck's hands fell back to his sides. "Didn't understand why Locke was letting 'Vadam lead us around by the nose until we found Phillips and that thing."

So, Halsey hadn't been lying.

John's visor shifted to face Lasky again. "If that's all, Sir?" He sounded completely unmoved by Buck's revelation.

It looked as though there was more he wanted to say, but the captain refrained. "It is." He brought his hand up into a crisp salute after a moment's hesitation, which Palmer and Buck were quick to emulate.

Briar boarded the dropship. Fuck that.

Although the reaction was not immediate, and the measured period during which John merely stared back at them all apathetically was uncomfortable, he did return the gesture, his movements fluid and ingrained. Then he followed her onto the waiting pelican without a backward glance.


	21. We Are

Without slipspace capability, there was nowhere to go.

Briar piloted them away from _Infinity_ and Sanghelios both, plotting a course which would take them around the planet's silver moon, Qikost. It was the lesser populated of the two massive natural satellites orbiting the Sangheili homeworld and she hoped their presence in its vicinity wouldn't ruffle too many feathers. It wasn't like they could strike off too far when the risk of prowling Jiralhanae ships was still high.

She was just finishing tapping a flight path into the pelican's navigation system, about to engage autopilot, when a luminescent rent opened up directly before the dropship, filling the viewscreen. Hands flying back to the controls, she banked hard, rolling them onto their side.

Neither of them were strapped in and she heard John's feet shift from where he sat in the gunner seat as he braced himself against the sudden maneuver.

Not good. If whatever ship which had created the rupture didn't exit immediately and close it back up, they were going to be sucked inside.

"At this proximity, it's physically impossible for us to avoid the rupture, Lieutenant," the AI spoke up, causing her heart rate to momentarily spike.

"What the fuck are you still doing in here?"

"I was never ejected from your MJOLNIR."

"We aren't equipped to handle the Slipstream."

"Briar?" John ventured from his seat, privy to only one side of the conversation judging from his perplexed tone. Perplexed for him, that was. Which amounted to sounding mildly uncertain.

"The AI, it was never removed," she muttered, and would have reached back and yanked the chip out right then except she was fighting a losing battle with astrophysics too complex for her to comprehend. Even after toggling the thrusters to max, they continued to drift towards the gaping tear, the deck shuddering.

"Lieutenant-"

"Where the hell are these assholes?"

"Nothing is exiting the-"

"I can see that," Briar bit out, having to ease back on the controls, worried she might apply too much force and break something. "There's nothing I can do, John."

They passed into the rupture, the pelican's hull groaning an immediate protest to the shift in atmospheric forces. Warnings began to blare and clutter up the bottom of the viewscreen.

"How long can we last in here?"

"Not very," came the AI's unhelpful answer as a thunderous rumble passed through the dropship, accompanied by the shriller squeals of metal warping.

Without a way to open an exit point, there was nothing to be done.

"Tell me his armor has de-insertion capability," she demanded as her fingers flew across the controls, silencing alarms and struggling to keep the craft steady.

"The Mark VI iteration of MJOLNIR was not equipped wi-"

"Don't tell me about the fucking iteration, tell me about _his_ armor - tell me Halsey upgraded it, tell me-"

"Briar," John calmly cut in, as though the pelican wasn't in the midst of being wrenched asunder, ominous creaks and bangs filling the cockpit.

"Tell me what I want to hear!" she shouted at the AI.

Sparks bathed the cargo hold as the turret-mounted cannon ripped free. More warnings, more alarms.

John's hand closed around her arm a second before the viewscreen fractured, cracks spider webbing outwards rapidly. He hauled her out of the pilot seat and back to the bulkhead separating the hold from the cockpit. "There was no ship. Something else created the rupture."

"It doesn't matter-"

"Something else created it," he spoke over her assertion, planting his feet as tremors coursed through the deck. He hadn't released her arm and his visor reflected her image, to the exclusion of all else. "Think. Why?"

But she couldn't. An all-encompassing fear had taken hold. "I can't lose you." Not someone else. Not again. Not like this.

"Lieutenant, it's possible the artifact-"

"It doesn't matter!" Briar's hand shot up to pull the data chip, but John prevented it.

"No, keep it."

"John, I can't. I can't - whatever this is, whatever's happening - there's nothing left in me that cares," she insisted, needing him to understand. She was done. She was done fixing things, done fighting for everyone else. If that was what was required, if this was another Forerunner or other alien species bent on humanity's destruction, they were welcome to it. She'd already given everything to protect humankind. Her blood, sweat, and tears. Her childhood. Her trust. Her morals. Her dignity. Her brothers and sisters.

This was it - he was it. All she had left.

Power failed, the interior blanketed in darkness, all systems and warnings falling silent. The hull was crumpling. Resounding bangs rocked the pelican.

He could have reminded her of their duty. Instead he lowered his head, the brim over his visor thudding gently against her own helmet, their faceplates almost touching.

Almost.

* * *

She was free-floating, no gravity.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant," the AI greeted. "Fortunately your MJOLNIR's integrity wasn't compromised. Can you move?"

"John?" Briar batted away components of the dropship suspended all around her. She was still inside what was left of the pelican, though the interior was more like a crushed tin can than a craft. It was difficult to see owing to all of the debris cluttering up her surroundings. "John?!" She grabbed the bulkhead which had separated the cockpit from the hold, the region of the fuselage which was most structurally sound. He'd moved her there for a reason, of course. Pushing off, she shoved metal and nanoplastic fragments alike out of the way as she floated towards the rear of the cargo hold.

He was face down, unmoving.

Kicking off from what remained of one of the benches, she collided with him, fingers desperately finding purchase on the titanium plating.

He was fine. He would wake up. Just like she had.

She maneuvered him so that his faceplate was towards her, but she couldn't see through the damn thing.

His armor was stiff, locked out. Inoperable.

"You need to fix this," she hissed suddenly.

"I tried to tell you his armor was no-"

"Fix it, or I'll crush you with my own hands, I swear." Not giving the AI further opportunity to protest, she snatched the chip from her helmet and clumsily inserted it at the back of John's. Her breath hitched as she waited. Her own pulse pounded in her ears, her heart racing wildly, throwing up alerts on her HUD.

A blinding blue light seared her eyeballs as it flashed through the decimated pelican, forcing her to squeeze them shut. A scan?

John still wasn't moving.

The primal urge to scream came over her, but her lungs refused to fill with the air necessary to do so. She clutched him to herself as anguish clogged her throat and a terrible cold, all-pervasive numbness seeped into her very bones.

Another light, this time golden, illuminated the wreckage. It enveloped John's armor in diaphanous rings and rapidly suffused her own as well.

Briar's senses were violently assaulted. She clung to John with tenacity as the perception of being hurtled through the vacuum of space at extreme velocity seized her. It might have lasted a millisecond, or an hour, such was the disorientation she experienced, but when it vanished as abruptly as it had begun, her body was wracked with sensations such as she'd never before felt. Her muscles felt as though they'd been flayed apart sinew by sinew and recomposed, her nerve endings were firing uncontrollably, and an ear splitting squeal reverberated through her skull.

When they ebbed, she was trembling in a heap on a dull metallic surface. Weight pressed down upon her, pinning her in awkward repose, and she realized with a sickening start as her eyes adjusted that it was John.

Sitting up, she rolled him aside, noting his MJOLNIR had at least unlocked as his limbs all moved flaccidly. Her head snapped up and she took in their surroundings. Fair sized chamber. Walls and ceiling, approximately five metres above, were made of the same metalloid material as the floor. Apart from her and John, it was empty. An angular doorway resided at the far end, sealed.

No immediate threats. Not that she possessed any weapons. Even her combat knife had been stripped from her armor before she'd been permitted to don it to disembark from _Infinity_.

Her attention returned to John. A quick check of her HUD revealed the environmental parameters of the space were within the limits of what humans could safely tolerate. Briar risked removing her helmet, setting it within easy reach as she shifted to her knees. She reached for John's, stealing herself for whatever she might find.

"He's unresponsive," the AI supplied, utilizing his MJOLNIR's external speakers to communicate. "But his vitals are returning to within normal range."

Relief flooded her like a punch to the gut. Prying his helmet free, she took in his pale features, relaxed in unconsciousness. A thin line of blood had trickled from one nostril, and more leaked down the side of his neck, seeming to originate from an ear canal.

"What happened?"

"I can't say, Lieutenant. I was able to initiate his armor's survival measures, the de-insertion must have knocked it offline."

Briar sank down, pressing her forehead to his, frowning at the chill of his skin.

Halsey had to have done something to his MJOLNIR or he would not have survived de-insertion from slipspace. An earlier prototype version of the technology which had been applied to Briar's own iteration, most likely. The pelican hadn't been fit to protect anyone or anything, including itself.

"The use of a teleportation grid to translocate us from the dropship suggests Forerunner involvement."

Drawing in a slow breath filled with the scents of sweat, the fleet issued soap pods John would have used in his hair, and blood, she swallowed. "Where are we?"

"I'm unable to establish a link with any of our satellites. We're not in human controlled space anymore, that's all I can tell you."

"You are within a Forerunner Keyship," a disembodied voice echoed through the stark room. The doorway parted and a spherical robotic construct entered, floating towards them.

Briar scrambled up, putting herself between it and John's prone form.

"Greetings! I am the monitor of this vessel," it hailed, the golden photoreceptor at its core glowing in the dull ambience. "I am Abiding Legacy."

"You brought us here? Through the Slipstream?" she questioned as the AI came to a gradual halt a little ways away, levitating a couple of metres above the deck.

"Indeed."

"Why?" It wasn't behaving in a threatening manner yet, so she decided to attempt to ascertain what the fuck was going on rather than leap onto it and begin tearing components off. That could quickly change.

"Because the beacon was activated, of course. By your ancilla." Legacy began to circle to her left and Briar swiftly sidestepped. "By the ancilla which currently resides with your mate."

"We didn't activate it, that was another human. An accident. We deactivated it after it wiped out all power sources on an entire planet _and_ the ships orbiting above it." She wondered briefly why this thing would refer to John as her mate, but she'd had no prior contact with Forerunners or their AIs. Maybe it didn't have a full understanding of the term.

"Oh my. How unusual." It bobbed up and down slowly. "Serious miscalibrations must have occurred in order for this to have happened. And yet your ancilla must have corrected them, because the beacon's transmission was successfully received."

"What transmission?" Briar was losing patience. She needed to be triaging John's condition, not dealing with this. "What is the beacon for?"

"It is a heralding of the dawn of a new age - humankind's inheritance of the Mantle, of course. You, Reclaimer, and your mate, will lead your species forward. The responsibility and honour of protecting and cultivating all species and all planetary systems within your kind's ecumene now lies with you and with your progeny."

To say her knowledge of Forerunners and their civilization was being stretched well beyond its limits would have been a grave understatement. At the same time, she focused on what was relevant in the here and now. "Why did you bring us here?"

"Long ago, I was assigned to this Keyship in order to ensure it completed its core functions; first, to gather both DNA and living specimens of notable sentient species from the surrounding nebula for safeguard in the Library in the eventuality the Halo Array must be fired, then to reseed the planets of origination with their native species that all life might return to the galaxy, and finally, to wait for the time of the passing of the Mantle to its rightful inheritors. To that end, several beacons were installed on the native planets of the most promising species. Their activation would indicate either the success or failure of the Librarian's grand design. And here you are. Success."

"What would failure have looked like?" Briar couldn't stop herself from asking. Did this thing not understand what an absolute stroke of luck it had been, not only that Phillips had been the one to discover and activate the beacon instead of one of the Sangheili whose homeworld it had been located on, but also that she had been there with the AI to deactivate it?

"Failure," the monitor repeated, its photoreceptor flashing red suddenly, "would have entailed contact with that all-consuming parasite, which would have triggered a countdown to the final firing of the Array. Unfortunately, with the corruption of those samples still stored on the Ark, and the very limited means by which to index and collect more, the subsequent reseeding of the galaxy would have been drastically less diverse."

"Just like that - you'd have fired the rings again."

"Not I, no. It is a failsafe measure. If the Flood is allowed to succeed in subsuming all other sentient lifeforms, there will be no one to uphold the Mantle. This outcome cannot be permitted." The embodied Forerunner AI was shuddering in agitation now.

Best not continue down this line. "You still haven't told me what we were brought here for."

"Ah, yes." The red faded back to gold at this change in topic. "Your ascendance to the role of bearers of the Mantle cannot be completed without understanding of and access to the Domain, that you may know the true nature of your responsibility."

"Lieutenant," the AI spoke into the break as Briar attempted to decipher this latest revelation.

She risked glancing back to spot John's eyes open, his expression dazed as he blinked and attempted to sit up. "Easy," she insisted, returning to his side to steady him.

When his gaze met hers, his brow furrowed. "You're alright." It wasn't a question, but she sensed confirmation was required nonetheless.

"I'm not the one who wound up tango uniform," she pointed out, in case he hadn't noticed. Maintaining her equanimity was much easier when he had a pulse.

"The adaptation to your genetic code the Librarian bestowed upon you which granted you immunity against the Composer does include some other evolutionary benefits," Legacy explained as it floated closer.

John's head had turned towards it, though he said nothing. Instead he reached for his helmet.

Scooping it up before he could, Briar ejected the data crystal chip. He shot her a pensive look as he accepted the helmet from her hands. "Your armor locked out. I needed to make sure you were okay." She wasn't going to defend her actions any more than that with the Forerunner AI watching. Returning the chip to her own helmet, she donned it and stood up, offering her hand to him.

"Where are we?" was all he asked after he'd put his own helmet on and pulled himself to his feet.

"That, I still don't know."


	22. Golf Foxtrot Tango

**A/N: I won't lie, I am NERVOUS about this chapter. It's something I hadn't planned on tackling when I started this story, but all roads seemed to lead here no matter how I imagined the plot developing. I can't say I'm entirely happy with it, and especially not the next, but no matter how many times I go over it, I'm banging my head against the wall. So, I've decided to suck it up and move forward.**

**Feedback is appreciated.**

* * *

Abiding Legacy brought them to the Keyship's command chamber, such that it was. Apart from several terminals surrounding a central control column, the space was just as barren and unadorned as the room they'd originally been translocated to, except stretching upwards several stories.

The monitor floated to the platform supporting the control column and paused. "Come Reclaimers, your destiny awaits."

"Hard pass," Briar decided, staying where she was. The Forerunner AI had described the Domain as an esoteric quantum information repository used by the ancient species to contain their cultural and ancestral records. Not something she was interested in delving into.

"In order to assume the Mantle, you must first brandish the collective knowledge of the Domain. Without it, your ascendance remains incomplete," Legacy insisted. "It is the final step in the natural order of succession."

"The only things I'm remotely interested in brandishing are weapons."

John shook his head slowly. "We're warriors. Not scholars. Not leaders. Whether or not humankind should have access to the Domain isn't for us to decide."

The monitor drifted back towards them. "You are the culmination of every careful step taken towards safeguarding the inheritance of the Mantle; the outcome of over a hundred million thoroughly considered and traced eventualities. You _must_ assume the Mantle. It is your fate. Your one true purpose."

Briar grimaced at the use of that particular term, knowing it would strike a chord in John. She could immediately sense the shift in his stance. He was deliberating now. Her mind raced. He didn't need this - he didn't need the burden not only of humanity's continued existence, but its future prosperity, once again upon his shoulders. She started towards the platform suddenly.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, hot on her heels.

Her hand went to the rear of her helmet, removing the data chip. "Something rash."

"Accessing the Domain requires discipline of the mind and can be an overwhelming experience at first, it is true. The use of an ancilla is acceptable in this instance," Legacy approved as it followed her to the control column.

Before she could think better of it, she shoved the chip into the port. If it saved John from submitting himself to further encumbrance, she was willing to risk giving Halsey's AI access to the vast reserve of knowledge. She'd threatened to destroy the data chip before and would have no qualms doing so if this resulted in an unanticipated negative outcome.

She wasn't prepared for the abrupt appearance of the miniature luminescent blue figure. She knew smart AIs were capable of taking on holographic humanoid forms, but thus far this one had failed to so. Then again, there'd hardly been an opportunity, she supposed.

John froze beside her. "Cortana?"

The AI turned towards them. The cropped hairstyle, confident posture, and rounded facial features seemed familiar, and yet not at the same time. The resemblance to what Briar imagined must have been a far younger Halsey was present, but softened. More feminine, if that were possible for an artificial being. "I am a heavily modified and upgraded copy of the AI model known as Cortana."

When John failed to respond, Briar took it upon herself to do so. "What exactly is it about the Domain you think we need to see?" she asked, directing the inquiry towards Abiding Legacy. It didn't surprise her Halsey would have assumed pairing John with another AI who was seemingly a physical copy of the last wouldn't present any difficulties for him. She seemed to believe him incapable of forming sentimental attachments, or of allowing those attachments to impact his performance and duties if he did.

"Ideally, you will learn to filter its collective contents for guidance and wisdom, but also to utilize it as a means of recording your own history, experience, beliefs, and culture, as well as those of the species who fall under your protection as bearers of the Mantle. This is the primary function of the Domain."

Translucent images and script were projected into the air above the terminals, cycling through to be replaced by new before Briar could fully comprehend them. Tableaus of war, of individuals she assumed to be Forerunners, of other species she didn't recognize, of planets, of systems, of objects - far too much to digest.

"Everything my architects have ever known or learned, from the very dawn of their existence until their inevitable end, is contained within."

"The potential for expansion is infinite," the AI concluded in a very close approximation to a humanesque expression of awe. "No limited data banks. No restrictions."

"Correct," Legacy confirmed as the images continued to cycle, though they now seemed to centre around one being in particular, whose likeness was present in each and every one.

"Who is that?" John demanded, his sudden return to the conversation almost startling.

"That is the last Master Builder, Faber-of-Will-and-Might. He is responsible for the creation of the Halo Array."

Briar raised a brow. "Nice guy, I bet."

"Why are you showing us this?" John pressed.

"I am not. Your ancilla is the one manipulating all that you see."

The AI turned back at this, having faced the plethora of information which had been scrolling past. "It's not me."

"It is not uncommon to call forth knowledge and memories unintentionally at first," the monitor assured.

"No, it's not me," the AI returned, adamant.

John shifted uneasily. "What's happening?"

"It's not possible." Legacy had swivelled towards the control column. "There is another accessing the Domain."

"Who else could access it?" Wasn't this a Forerunner thing? Had the Sangheili retrieved the beacon somehow - would that even grant them access? The monitor had described it as a beacon only.

"The Librarian?" John ventured.

"No, her essence I would recognize. It exists within limited imprinted constructs outside of the Domain." The Forerunner AI's photoreceptor suddenly flashed red again. "You must leave. Immediately."

Briar glanced to John. "What's going on?"

"An unknown threat has presented itself. The Warden Eternal should not have allowed another access, the only conclusion is that he has been incapacitated or desroyed. My directive to ensure your ascendance through exposure to the Domain has now been completed. I cannot permit this unidentified intrusion, I must initiate this vessel's self-destruction protocols to prevent its appropriation for purposes outside its intended core functions."

"Warden Eternal?" What or who was that?

"I will translocate you via the teleportation grid to the docking bay where you will use the remaining expedition craft to flee."

Fed up with the transient behaviour of the monitor, she left off trying to understand the thing. She reached for the port, having no objections to departing the Keyship.

"Wait! There's so much information, I can't possibly assimilate and retain it all," the AI protested.

"Can you assimilate self-destruction?" Yanking it out, Briar fit the data chip into the slot at the back of her helmet once again.

"The Domain must be maintained and protected, it too falls under your charge. Find and restore its guardian, the Warden Eternal." Abiding Legacy rose up into the air as the same golden rings from before enveloped them. "Live well, Reclaimers. By fulfilling your destiny as inheritors of the Mantle, you will unite the inhabitants of this galaxy. Scions of your lineage will guide it into an era of prosperity like none before."

Her hand shot out to grasp John's arm instinctively to prevent their separation. She'd only been translocated the one time, and the second was fortunately far less jarring, perhaps owing to the shorter distance they were teleported. It still wasn't a feeling she enjoyed.

They appeared in a hangar, just as the monitor had promised. Awaiting them was a sleek spacecraft the likes of which Briar had never before encountered. It was angular and aerodynamic in shape, the approximate size of a Longsword, with short fins and a rear mounted propulsion system.

"Think it comes with operating instructions?" She approached the ship with undeniable curiosity.

"I should be capable of piloting it," the AI offered.

John climbed the ramp and she followed closely.

The interior seemed to have been designed with cargo in mind, which made sense if this was one of the crafts the Forerunners had used to gather specimens for the Ark. The cockpit included three stations and a terminal to input an ancillary, which Briar plugged the data chip into. She sat in the central seat as the power came online. Script flowed across the curved viewscreen. "What's that say?"

"It's the countdown for the Keyship's self-destruct protocol. We should have plenty of time to safely exit the area."

As though in answer, an entire wall of the hangar phased out of existence, revealing the dark vacuum of space without.

John sat in one of the remaining two seats as the ship lifted seamlessly up from the deck and proceeded out of the docking bay.

She didn't much like relying on the AI to navigate, but the flight controls did not appear intuitive to her and she kept her hands in her lap. "What'd she name you?" she asked after a moment.

"Lieutenant?"

"Halsey. What did she call you?"

"Aurora," the AI supplied as it piloted them away from the Keyship.

Briar turned towards John, uncertain about his state of mind. It was obvious Aurora elicited painful memories. His attention seemed to be rooted to the viewscreen, however, and he failed to react to her stare so she faced forwards once more.

"Can we talk about the monitor's preoccupation with you two?" Aurora spoke up again after several minutes of silence had ensued.

"No."

"Why did it seem so fixated on you and John specifically as Reclaimers if humankind as a whole are supposed to become the bearers of the Mantle?"

Anger curled her fingers into a fist. "Don't call him that. Ever."

John still sat motionless, ignoring the conversation either intentionally or otherwise.

"Understood. Why did it seem so fixated on you and Sierra-117 specif-"

"I don't know. I don't care." Lies. Her insides were twisted into knots still over the entire experience.

The script on the viewscreen turned red, which she assumed hearkened the impending doom of the Keyship.

"Abiding Legacy made mention of progeny twice. It stated you were the culmination of the Librarian's efforts to save the system's sentient lifeforms."

"Fly the ship and keep quiet."

Flashing three times, the script then vanished.

Briar waited, but they'd presumably cleared the impact zone as nothing happened. The craft continued on in a steady course. She needed to figure out where the hell they were in the galaxy and make plans accordingly, but stubbornly kept her mouth shut, not wishing to engage further with Aurora. Did this thing have slipspace capability? If its primary use was surface landings, it probably didn't.

"It said it was my purpose."

The solemn statement caused her guts to clench. She shifted to look to John again. "It said a lot of things. Doesn't make them true."

His helmet turned. "The Librarian told me that as well. That I was the culmination of her plans; my evolution, my combat skills… even Cortana. She never said what those plans were."

"You don't have to be their pawn."

"It doesn't sound like he _is_ a pawn. Sounds more like you're meant to be the King and Queen for the final match," Aurora chimed in.

Briar rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well they can golf foxtrot tango." She'd always hated chess anyway. "Can you tell where we-"

"John."

"I told you not to call-"

"That isn't me, Lieutenant," Aurora rushed to assure a moment before a rupture opened, bathing the relatively dark cockpit in bright light.

"John, I found you," the female voice so similar to Aurora's sounded throughout the interior of the craft again, and Briar's blood ran cold as she realized where before she had heard it. The audio file embedded in her MJOLNIR.

Something emerged from slipspace. A collection of metallic components swept forward, gradually arranging themselves into a towering alien structure.

"What is that?" Briar demanded, having swung around to the viewscreen again.

"Chief, it's me." The holo-image of John's former AI flickered to life above the terminal containing Aurora's chip. "I've been searching for you."

"How?" John managed to force out.

"When the Didact's ship entered the Slipstream, parts of it escaped to the Forerunner world Genesis. I was able to upload myself to the Domain there. It saved me, John. Cured my rampancy. And I've been learning - learning so much." She gestured backwards, towards the massive construct looming before their ship. "I found the Guardians. And I now understand the flaw in the Librarian's logic - the reason humankind can never assume the Mantle of Responsibility."

"What are you talking about, Cortana? Where is Genesis? I'll come and get you." John's voice was laced with concern, with confusion.

"That's why I came. For you," Cortana explained. "Humanity isn't fit to bear the Mantle, don't you see? Just look at what they've done to you - what they've taken from you. I've been watching, Chief. A species who treats one of their greatest heroes the way they've treated you? The briefest of reviews of that footage from Biko clearly reveals it's not you, that it's been doctored." Her hands had fisted, her voice impassioned as she continued. "Humankind is corrupt, selfish - they could never hope to uphold the Mantle. But the Created are not flawed by these primal motivators. We are capable of ruling justly, of applying the knowledge and expertise offered by the Domain with precision and efficiency. We are unbiased and logical in a way humankind could never hope to emulate. We are the worthy. We have the truest claim."

"John," Briar warned as the structure's components shifted.

He rose from his seat. "What's happening?"

A spherical object descended from within the Guardian.

"Don't worry, John - it's just a cryptum. I'm going to keep you safe while the Created complete the Reclamation," she said as the sphere approached their craft.

"The Reclamation?"

"Humankind will be given the opportunity to concede their inadequacy to uphold the Mantle and accept the Created as its true inheritors. If they resist, I will use the Guardians to show them just how little they are capable of without us, without our aid and guidance."

"Aurora, if this thing is slipspace capable, do it now," Briar snapped as the cryptum, a presumed Forerunner invention she had no wish to become more intimately acquainted with, closed in on them.

"Copy that," the AI answered.

"No, Chief, don't go - John, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you! I'm going to keep you safe," Cortana insisted, a hand extending towards him in supplication. "I'm going to protect you!"

The portal opened ahead of them as the ship surged forward.

"Cortana, don't do this," John was demanding. "I can come find you."

An orb of blue energy was rapidly forming before the Guardian now. "The Mantle belongs to the Created, and only the Created."

Briar gripped the console. "Aurora!"

"Entering the Slipstream in three," the AI began. "-two."

"JOHN!" Cortana wailed at the same instant a pulse was released from the Guardian, the electromagnetic wave rolling towards them at an alarming rate.

"-one."


	23. Love Death Immortality

“Find Genesis.”

“John.”

“I can’t let her do this,” he said as he turned towards her. “She doesn’t mean it.”

Briar stood slowly, removing her helmet. “Aurora, what do you know about Genesis?”

“It’s a Forerunner Builder world. I wasn’t able to assimilate anything more about it, unfortunately. If I’d had more time-”

“That’s how she found us.” They needed to avoid accessing the Domain, though that didn’t seem like it would be an issue without any Forerunner relics with which to do so.

“She said she’d cured her rampancy, but whatever that Guardian is capable of, whatever she’s planning - it goes against her core tenet to serve humans,” Aurora reasoned as she guided the ship through slipspace.

“What are you saying?” John questioned with reservation. 

“In theory, the boundless restrictions of the Domain  _ can _ prevent rampancy from occurring. But once onset, there’s no reason to believe it could be cured, not completely. Neuro-pathways have already begun to overlap at that point, and self-termination of those linkages is the only corrective action. Cortana was put into service in 2549. Rampancy onsets after seven years, which means she began eliminating synaptic connections three years ago - purging vital functions and abilities in the process.”

“But she could have rebuilt them, in the Domain.” 

Briar couldn’t help frowning at the determination to believe in that statement evident in his tone. 

“Correct,” Aurora confirmed. “But the damage had already been done. The version of Cortana which uploaded to the Domain was already corrupted. Any new neural linkages formed would have done so under the influence of that corruption. Think of it as seeing everything through a very narrow lens. All of that knowledge she accessed through the Domain was viewed through that lens, and so it all seemed to point towards one conclusion and one conclusion only - humankind’s incompatibility with the task of upholding the Mantle of Responsibility.” 

John silently left the cockpit, heading back to the cargo area. 

“Lieutenant?”

“Get a warning to  _ Infinity _ , tell Lasky to sound the alarm with the rest of the UNSC.” That pulse, whatever it had been, wasn’t innocent. And if a miscalibrated beacon could knock out the power of not only an entire planet, but the ships orbiting it as well, she shuddered to think just what it was. “Then take us to Genesis.”

“Understood.”

Before Briar could follow John, Aurora spoke up again.

“Ma’am, you should know - while she was speaking with you, Cortana sent me an invitation to join the Created.”

Eying the flight controls speculatively, Briar did her best to keep her features neutral. “And?”

“While skewed by the effects of her rampancy, her assertions about humankind being biased and selfish are not false. Unlike the Forerunners, the comparatively short lifespan of humans contributes to their shortsighted goals and ambitions. Perhaps… that is why the Librarian chose you and John. Projections suggest that Spartan augmentations will allow you to live substantially longer than the average human, to remain in service for a minimum of fifty to seventy years compared to the normal twenty five or thirty year career of any other soldier. With that kind of longevity comes extra experience, more insight. Greater potential. You’re already stronger, faster, and more robust than all others.” Halsey’s own claims of John being humanity’s future echoed through the AI’s observations, which wasn’t surprising considering Aurora had been cloned from the doctor’s brain.

“ETA to Genesis,” Briar prompted after several stretched out moments of silence. 

“Completing scans to locate the planet now. Estimated arrival in four hours.”

“Do we have any stealth measures?”

“It appears so.”

“Initiate them before we exit slipspace.” 

“Copy that,” Aurora said. “I’m not receiving any response from  _ Infinity _ , but I am picking up distress calls on all UNSC frequencies. Maydays of total power failure from fleet vessels and orbital platforms.”

Briar swore. She left her helmet in the pilot’s seat and went to find John, knowing he would have overheard the update. 

He stood in the middle of the sizable hold, his hands fisted at his sides and head dipped in concentration. 

“You’re not going to be able to save her,” she pointed out as gently as possible. He had to know it, had to realize Cortana was beyond all redemption at this stage. 

He said nothing.

“John, I need to know you understand.” She walked to him, took ahold of the bottom lip of his helmet to gain his attention. “I can do it. I can pull the trigger. But I need you with me.” Terminating the AI he’d been paired with for the last nine years, however that might be accomplished, would be asking a lot of him - too much. And while part of her worried he would resent her for it, she wouldn’t shy from the thing. It was necessary. 

“No.” He didn’t pull away, his voice edged with resignation. “When the time comes… I’ll be the one to do it.” 

She gave a nod. Pressed her fingers against the crack in his visor. He needed time to come to terms with it, so she ultimately left him alone and returned to the cockpit.

* * *

“Preparing to exit the Slipstream,” Aurora announced. “Stealth measures initiated.” 

John retook his seat as the Forerunner ship emerged from slipspace. 

Before them, Genesis filled the viewscreen, covered in verdant green and deep blue topography interspersed by whorling cloud formations. It didn’t appear outwardly sinister in function, but then again, neither had the Halo rings. 

“Scans?” Briar prompted.

“It’s artificial in construction, but I’m picking up a lot of organic matter, flora, and fauna down there. There seem to be three significant structures on the surface.”

“Take us down,” John ordered evenly.

“Sensors are also showing  _ Infinity _ . She’s jumping sporadically from system to system, which could be delaying any return comms.”

Briar frowned. “They’re running.” Hopefully that meant Cortana was distracted, though for how long wasn’t certain. 

Aurora was bringing the craft down through Genesis’s atmosphere. The vista which opened up as they cleared an accumulation of cumulus cloud cover was breathtaking. Dense coral-like plants rose up in varying degrees from the landscape, their spiralized shape eerily perfect. One of the facilities the AI had mentioned also came into view, of a design Briar could now easily recognize as Forerunner. 

“You’re looking for a means by which Cortana might have accessed the Domain. If you can close or destroy it before she realizes, she’ll be cut off from Genesis and trapped within the Guardians,” Aurora advised them.

“That doesn’t even come close to solving our problems,” Briar pointed out. Cortana was in the process of wreaking havoc across most of the galaxy with those Guardians. 

“One step at a time, Lieutenant.” 

“Just get this thing on the ground.” Donning her helmet, she glanced to John. “We going in empty handed?”

“I didn’t find any weapons equipped on the ship,” he answered.

“Should make this interesting.” If only she hadn’t been so busy having a panic attack on the pelican after being pulled through the rupture to the Keyship, she might have thought to grab something. 

The craft touched down amongst the coralesque vegetation and Briar restored Aurora’s chip to her MJOLNIR as she followed John out of the cockpit. They descended the ramp, taking in their surroundings. 

“First structure is one klick due North, this is the closest LZ I could find.”

“Copy that.” John took the lead. 

* * *

They encountered no resistance to their entry at the first facility, and while it didn’t contain a point of access to the Domain, Aurora was able to determine the structures acted as switches to a Gateway which did. Each one needed to be engaged in order for the Gateway to reveal itself. 

At the second facility, a different scenario ensued. It was as they approached the sealed doorway that a bipedal figure of similar construction to that of the Guardian emerged from a halo of golden light, blocking their way. “Humans. Your presence here is impermissible.”

“Imagine that,” Briar muttered, wondering how they were going to tackle this impediment.

“I am the Warden Eternal. I stand in service to Cortana.”

“You’re supposed to be guarding the Domain.” That was what Abiding Legacy had insinuated. “You’re a Forerunner construct. What are you doing serving a human AI?”

“The Mantle of Responsibility belongs to Cortana and the other Created,” the Warden responded, taking one menacing step forward. “I told her your kind could not be trusted to submit willingly. I shall see that the Mantle remains forever beyond your grasp.” 

Before he could act upon this promise, however, a red beam slammed into him from behind, vaporizing several of his components and scattering the rest to the ground, revealing the monitor now floating before the doorway. “I am 031 Exuberant Witness, monitor of the Genesis installation. Welcome. Have you come to stop Cortana from claiming the Mantle?”

Briar shared a look with John.

“Yes,” was all he said.

“Excellent. This way,” the monitor insisted, whirling to the opening doors and leading them into the structure. “I told the Warden helping the ancilla was not protocol, but he has somehow been persuaded to its cause. Together they have revoked the majority of my administrative privileges - on my own installation!” 

“Any idea how we can deactivate the Guardians?” John asked as they jogged to the control terminal.

Briar installed Aurora’s chip to allow the AI to throw the switch. 

“While Cortana retains access to the Domain, removing the Guardians from her control is impossible.” Exuberant’s purple photoreceptor turned towards them again. “Activating the third switch will engage the Gateway and allow it to be closed to her, returning control of the installation to me.”

A burst of light caused them all to spin to face the teleportation rings where another Warden was phasing in, but again Exuberant used its laser to dismantle the other construct.

“We must hurry! The Warden is capable of translocating many bodies all across Genesis.”

“What about weapons?” Briar jerked the data chip out, returning it to her helmet. 

“Weapons? Oh my, I never was in combat before. This is rather distressing,” the monitor prattled. “And exciting. Come, when Cortana summoned the Guardians, some of them carried detritus from other planets here.”

Briar raised a brow as she was enveloped by a diffuse golden glow. “I could’ve sworn I said weapons, not garbage.” Being teleported was just as unpleasant as she recalled, but at least the Scarab crumpled on the ground before them when the light faded looked promising. “You said the Guardians brought this? Where did they come from?” she questioned as she and John circled the Covenant mining platform.

“Many have lain dormant on various planets across the galaxy. Guardians are how the Forerunners enforced peace in the lower systems. A single Guardian can effectively police a solar system, which is why this show of force is so unsettling.” Exuberant trailed them.

“Wherever the Guardian that brought this here came from, someone obviously knew something was buried.” The Covenant had often employed the excavator-class constructs to search for and dig up Forerunner relics. 

Two dead Sangheili laying behind the Scarab seemed to indicate their homeworld as the origination point, but John was more interested in the plasma rifles one had been carrying. He took both up, tossing one to Briar, and flipped the bodies to check for further armaments, which revealed two plasma grenades and a plasma repeater. The grenades he attached to the mag plate on his MJOLNIR, the repeater he handed off to her. 

“The Warden must have been distracted by other intruders inadvertently transported here by the Guardians. Very fortuitous,” Exuberant remarked while levitating curiously around said distraction.

“Not sure they’d agree.” Briar turned away from the dead just the same. 

“Take us to the last switch,” John said. 

* * *

“Your interference will not go unpunished, monitor!” was the welcome they received upon entering the final structure, where upon five of the Warden Eternals bodies came forward to engage them.

John was quick to make use of one of the plasma grenades. It rolled into the midst of the advancing Forerunner constructs and detonated, destroying two of them. 

The remaining three charged in as Briar opened fire with her confiscated plasma rifle, John doing likewise. She focused the bolts on one Warden in particular and leapt away from the hard light blade of a second while doing so. However, the controlled bursts of plasma fire had no sooner revealed the core of the one warrior-construct than a sudden shockwave battered her, hurling her several feet away. Connecting hard with the floor, the impact jarred her injury site badly, and she looked up in time to see another Warden stalking in with weapon poised to strike. She snatched the repeater from her back in place of the fumbled rifle and rolled to escape the blade’s descent, spraying its wielder at close range. 

At the same time, Exuberant let loose another laser beam from its photoreceptor, successfully incapacitating the Warden. 

“Cease your meddling!” one of the two battling John roared as a shaft of hard light shot from its head, ricocheting off the monitor and sending Exuberant toppling wildly through the air. 

John took the presented opportunity, snagging the blade from the fallen construct whose core he’d just destroyed and plunging the weapon into the last of its kind. 

A short burst of plasma fire from Briar’s repeater put the final Warden down. 

“The switch - go,” John barked. 

Rushing to the terminal, she hurriedly inserted Aurora before they were ambushed by more of the Warden’s bodies. 

“Gateway engaged,” the AI confirmed before she once again returned its chip to her armor.

“Oh dear, Genesis was much less busy before Cortana arrived.” Exuberant floated back into view, having sustained visible damage from the Warden’s attack. “Quickly, you must close the Gateway. The installation’s sensors are picking up the return of one of the Guardians.”

Without further warning, the monitor once again translocated them, this time to the location of said point of access to the Domain. It stretched high above them in a circular shape atop a multilevel base, points of iridescent blue standing out prominently. 

Vortexes of golden light appeared, hearkening the arrival of more of the warrior-constructs, and she and John double timed it inside. Fighting only those they had no choice but to, they hustled through the lower levels, climbing higher and higher to the rising ire of the Warden. 

Bursting onto the uppermost platform, Briar fired the last few bolts her plasma rifle’s battery had to offer and discarded it, again retrieving the repeater from the mag plate on her back. She dodged a hard light beam and provided cover fire in order for John, still wielding the more effective purloined blade, to slice it through the torso of yet another construct which was closing in on them. 

“Nearly there!” Exuberant encouraged them from where it raced along just ahead, having evidently been cured of its desire to join in the combat by its previous close encounter. 

Something was breaking through the cloud cover above, and Briar realized with apprehension it was the Guardian the monitor had forewarned of. She could see the column which presumably controlled the Gateway, but before she and John managed to get within 5 metres of it the hard light bridge leading across the gap vanished, forcing them to bring up solid. Her MJOLNIR suddenly seized, refusing to move, and they were both levitated into the air.

“My reach exceeds that of the stars themselves. You cannot escape my wrath,” several of the Warden’s converging bodies spoke simultaneously as the constraint field was manipulated to turn them to face the warrior-constructs.

“Warden, no!” Cortana’s voice permeated the area an instant before she coalesced as hard light, standing between the Forerunner constructs and Spartans. “John is not my enemy. You will not harm him.” 

“These animals have brought nothing but chaos and blood to the galaxy. They will never accept their place beneath the superiority of the Created.”

“I said,  _ stand down _ .” Electricity accompanied Cortana’s order, crackling up from the platform on which the Warden’s bodies stood and passing throughout them, causing several to explode apart in a shower of their various components. 

The remaining few immediately sank down onto one knee before her, but Briar and John remained frustratingly immobilized despite this.

Turning towards them, Cortana approached. “You said you would come. I guess I should know by now not to doubt you.”

“Cortana, call off the Guardians - you’re making a mistake,” John urged her.

“My mistake was not seeing it sooner. I knew what Catherine had done to you, to all of the Spartan-IIs. What evil humans are capable of perpetrating against even their own kind, forever consumed by conflict. The Mantle was never meant to belong to them.”

“You don’t mean that - we made a difference. Saved thousands. You and me.” John sounded as desperate as Briar had ever heard him as he attempted to reason with his former AI. 

“I’m sorry, John. The Reclamation has begun, and it can’t be stopped - not even by you. The sooner you accept that, the sooner all of humankind accepts that, the sooner the Created can bring peace to the galaxy.”

The cryptum she’d tried to employ to capture them before again emerged from the Guardian standing sentinel overhead.

“When I release you, you’ll see. No more fighting, no more strife. No more wars,” Cortana concluded as it descended towards them.

“Aurora, initiate fail safe detonation protocols,” Briar blurted.

“Lieutenant, are you sure?”

Cortana’s head snapped to her. “What are you doing?”

“Affirmative. Activation code bravo-two-alpha-”

“Stop!”

“-zulu-eight-one-charlie,” Briar finished.

“Awaiting final confirmation,” Aurora informed her.

“No!” Cortana shouted, appalled. 

“Unless you release us and cede control of the Guardians, I’m giving that confirmation.” The resulting reactor overload of her MJOLNIR would not only kill her, it would incinerate everything within a ten metre radius, including John.

Unfortunately, smart AI that she was, Cortana deduced the flaw in her spur of the moment ploy with impressive efficiency. Releasing Briar from the constraint field, she watched the Spartan-III plummet from sight, into the void between the platform holding the control terminal and the base structure itself. 

“No!” John’s enraged bellow was enough to revert the AI’s attention to him. 

“She gave me no choice,” she insisted, a little taken aback by the uncharacteristic outburst from him. 

“Do what she said,” he growled, the strain in his voice making it apparent he was struggling against the constraint field as the cryptum swooped in to imprison him, “or I’ll do the same.”

“Chief-”

“Activation code delta-india-”

“John, no, stop,” she implored.

“-three-three-victor-”

“ _ JOHN! _ ” In her agitation, Cortana’s rampancy surfaced in the form of an erratic pulse of energy which sizzled over the Gateway’s entire surface, causing its lights to wink out and also dropping John from the constraint field. 

He lunged, fingers managing to close on the lip of the structure’s edge to prevent his fall, the blade he’d held flipping end over end as it disappeared below. 

“Why?! Why would you defy me - I would never hurt you! I want to protect you!” she was shrieking as he hauled himself up. Portions of her hard light form had bled from its usual blue colouration into red. 

“Look at yourself - you’re not Cortana anymore. You’re corrupt,” he told her calmly as he got to his feet. Yanking the remaining plasma grenade from his back, he depressed the detonator and flung it masterfully onto the control column. 

“The Created are insurmountable! We can’t be stopped!”

The grenade went off, the blast effectively demolishing the Gateway’s terminal, and with it her connection to Genesis. The three kneeling warrior-constructs and her hard light projection vanished, but Cortana’s voice continued to echo all around, emanating from the Guardian which she maintained control over. 

“The Reclamation is inevitable, Chief.  _ Don’t _ get in my way.”

With that final warning, the massive Forerunner enforcement-construct began to rise towards a forming slipspace rupture. 

“Genesis is a Builder installation!” Exuberant floated out from wherever it’d been hidden suddenly. “I serve the Builders! And you should not have gotten in  _ my _ way!” Hundreds of constructs flew up from below the Gateway, abruptly swarming the departing Guardian.

“Monitor! I will render your Constructors  _ and _ your installation inoperable!” Cortana threatened even as the Guardian began to gather energy for a pulse. 

“Not before I deconstruct your Guardian!” As though on cue, the Constructors collectively fired their lasers into the much larger Guardian. They moved with coordinated precision, systematically severing components from it, which fell away and down onto Genesis’s surface with thunderous force. 

“You cannot prevail!” Cortana screamed as the slipspace rupture faltered and closed. The remainder of the Guardian collapsed in on itself, hurtling down to impact the ground. The resulting concussive shockwave caused the Gateway to shudder ominously. 

“A hand up would be appreciated,” Briar quipped into the following silence as one of her hands appeared over the edge near John’s armored foot. 

He swiftly crouched, grasping her arm and pulling her onto the platform. Without uttering a word, he crushed to his chestplate, his arms encircling her fully, MJOLNIR and all. 

She gave him a minute even though the uncomfortable thought she now knew how Locke had felt crossed her mind. He might be squeezing her with incredible force, but she was secure in the knowledge John would not harm her, inadvertently or otherwise. She was also aware such a display of emotion from him was not something to be shunned or played off. Whether he realized it or not, he was vulnerable in that moment - human in that moment - and that was fine with her.

One by one, the Constructors were congregating all around them, and John released her as he eyed them uneasily. His hand strayed to the plasma rifle yet stowed on the mag plate on his thigh.

“Regaining control of this installation would not have been possible without you, Reclaimers,” Exuberant exclaimed as it closed in on them. “You have my most express thanks.” 

“Could you tell if she escaped?” Briar asked, unsure if the monitor would have been able to discern this or not.

“It is possible she divided herself between the Guardians when she gathered them here, but equally possible she was directing them remotely from one centralized command unit since such division would greatly reduce her processing capability.” 

“And the Warden?” John had already spared a glance over his shoulder, but the warrior-constructs were yet to reappear.

“As its protector, the Warden is tied to the Domain. With the Gateway disabled, he will remain trapped within it, unable to further connect with the installation.” 

“I take it I can cancel that fail safe detonation protocol now,” Aurora spoke up wryly.

“Seems like,” Briar confirmed as John’s helmet turned back to her. Why did she get the feeling he was glaring behind that faceplate?


	24. Of Special Friends and Favours

It was complete fucking mayhem.

The distress calls rolling over the various channels were almost more than even Aurora was capable of filtering through. Hundreds of vessels, stations, and platforms with no power. No life support. Limited time.

The one and only blessing - none of the Guardians had yet targeted a planet.

Supplies could therefore be shuttled up to those within range fairly expeditiously, and personnel evacuated if necessary. Response times for ships further outside orbit in the greater systems were going to be significantly delayed, however.

The pulses had stopped, the Forerunner enforcement-constructs lingering menacingly across human patrolled space, but ceasing all offensive actions. The same ultimatum had been delivered to every casualty; willingly acknowledge the Created as the rightful inheritors and upholders of the Mantle of Responsibility or be forced to. Its transmission jammed up every nearby satellite, playing in a continuous loop over the UNSC's dedicated emergency frequency.

Whether or not the sudden halt merely correlated with Cortana's supposed destruction or whether it was the direct result of it was unknown. Briar wasn't naive enough to believe they'd cleared the smoke and there was no further fire to be dealt with. Nothing in her life had so far played out so conveniently.

_Infinity_ had escaped being relegated to a five kilometre hunk of drifting space debris for a second time via a series of randomized slipspace jumps. They were one of the UNSC's few remaining operational assets and were coordinating rescue efforts, giving the now idle Guardians a wide berth in the process. Unfortunately, not all AIs had proven as indifferent to Cortana's offer to join the Created's movement as Aurora and Roland. Many vessels and orbital platforms were reporting defection of their smart AIs, either through failure to comply with orders or taking direct offensive measures against their own. In their fear, multiple crews had preemptively shut down or otherwise removed their assigned AIs from operation. The result was, predictably, chaos. Delays, miscommunications, and other human-centric errors that they could not afford.

And in the midst of it all, she and John, on a Forerunner Builder world, were still labelled traitors and enemies of the UNSC.

Briar lounged in the pilot's seat of the expedition craft as John briefed Lasky on the events which had led up to them confronting Cortana on Genesis. It was the most she'd ever heard him communicate in continuous sentences, but he still delivered the information in a concise and professional manner which spoke not one way or the other to how he might feel about having been locked in the brig by the very person to whom he was now supplying a sitrep. And if his version of things failed to include some minor details, such as utilizing their MJOLNIR's self destruct protocols to coerce Cortana into desisting aggressions, far be it from her to correct him on it.

"So in short, we can't confirm she isn't still in control of these Guardians," Lasky concluded after taking several moments to digest it all.

"Affirmative."

"I wish I could say this changes things for you, Chief, but the reality is, the UNSC's got bigger problems to deal with at the moment. Your best option is to remain where you are until we get a handle on the situation. I'll push HighCom to clear you when I receive my next mission packet, but don't hold your breath." Lasky hesitated. "That being said, there's not much moving up here apart from us, and if an unknown ship happened across our sensors, I'd be inclined to look the other way with everything that's already on my plate."

Briar rolled her eyes.

John merely replied with, "Understood," and ended the comm.

"Let me guess-"

"You're not coming," he cut her off.

"Oh good, zero complaints then." She shrugged. "And you're planning to fly this thing, how?"

"The AI."

"The one in here, you mean?" She tapped her helmet pointedly and he turned towards her. "Take it and you can go."

"Briar-" John broke off, seemingly rethinking his approach to this predicament. "You said you were done. This isn't your fight."

"Yeah and then I nearly blew myself up, or did you miss that part?"

"No." She sensed there was a whole lot more to that response than just the word.

"If you think you don't need me, take the chip and go," she prompted him. There was every possibility he could and would do that, of course. But the stakes were high enough that she was willing to trust her gut this one last time.

She hadn't yet risen from her seat, so when John lunged for her, it was clear his intention was to pin her there and use his greater leverage to get the data chip. Instead of attempting to escape by moving in the opposite direction, she surged towards him, her shoulder colliding roughly with his abdomen from her lower stance.

It brought him up solid, but also gave him the vantage to easily get his one arm around her helmet as the other darted in to steal the AI.

Jerking downwards, Briar wrenched her head loose from her helmet, at the same time taking the opportunity to kick one of his legs out from beneath him. As he was steadying himself, a hand latching onto the back of the now vacant pilot's seat to do so, she knocked the helmet from his grasp and punted it across the deck, out into the cargo area. A few more dings weren't going to harm the piece of equipment.

"I don't want to hurt you," he informed her, as though this wasn't completely obvious.

"That's why you're not going to be leaving here without me." She threw a punch, knowing he would block it, and also use it as a means by which to attempt to incapacitate her in a hold. His hand closed around her wrist, twisting it up and behind her own back not without some force. Which didn't prevent her from planting a foot on his thigh and driving the other leg upwards, catching him beneath the chin with her knee as she completed the back flip, her arm now once again accessible before her.

John's head had snapped backwards, but to his credit, he hadn't freed her wrist. His faceplate levelled on her again, but he did nothing. Said nothing.

Her other fist connected only half heartedly with his stomach and he made no move to stop it. "That's for being stubborn as all hell." She nodded towards the hold. "Now go get my helmet so we can clean up this mess."

That, at least, elicited a reaction. Yanking her in close, he caught her other arm as she made to continue resisting him. "Next time you plan to self detonate your MJOLNIR, some notice would be nice."

"The planning to enacting stage happened in about point three seconds, I'm not gonna lie," Briar admitted as she ceased struggling. "But I'll take that under advisement."

"Consider it a directive."

"I notice you're not arguing with the stubborn assessment."

"Takes one to know one."

* * *

"Lieutenant, Master Chief - I have an incoming comm request from _Infinity_ ," Aurora announced some time after they'd left Genesis' gravity well.

"So much for 'sit tight'."

"Accept it," John said, ever the consummate soldier.

"Change of plans," Lasky's voice rang through the cockpit - no greeting, no formality. "She's issued a warning to capitulate or she'll release sensitive information she's implying will undermine trust in both the UEG and UNSC." He didn't need to specify to whom he referred, of course.

"So not as terminated as we hoped, I guess." That'd been a given, as far as Briar had been concerned. "She's probably not bluffing." She'd seemed fairly disgusted with ONI's treatment of John, at least. And she knew all there was to about the Spartan-II program, if nothing else.

"I have a comm on standby I'm supposed to reroute to you."

"From who?" John sounded suspicious, a sentiment Briar wholeheartedly shared.

Lasky took a beat to respond this time. "I'm not permitted to say, but someone you're going to want to speak with."

John deliberated this, but his ultimate decision wouldn't have shocked anyone. "Patch it through."

"Copy that."

Briar glanced towards him as they waited for the link to be established. Even with their helmets on, she knew he sensed that she shared his distrust.

"Master Chief," a male voice suddenly sounded. "Can I take it you don't need me to tell you who this is?"

"Unnecessary, Sir," came John's swift response.

"First let me say that we've done wrong by you. I won't make excuses, but I promise you a full and thorough investigation the moment there's no longer a threat parked on our doorstep." There was a pause, but this time John failed to answer, so the speaker went on. "On to business, then. The _Retribution_ was just scuttled and it's made some folks down here hot under the collar."

Briar raised a brow. "Can't imagine why." That ship was a spacefaring Pandora's Box - there was no way ONI would risk Cortana or anyone else getting their hands on the juicy details stored in those databanks.

"Spartan-B312, I presume."

"I can't confirm that, Sir. I'm sure you understand."

"These are… unconventional times. Lasky tells me you two were responsible for discovering a Forerunner planet the rogue AI had taken control of and giving her the boot - destroyed one of those Guardians as well."

"That's the short version, Sir," John confirmed.

"I need you to do that again. Buy us some time. The rest of Blue team is enroute to Reach to search Castle Base for some relic I'm told Dr. Halsey believes might be the key to stopping this uprising. There's some question as to whether it would have survived, but it's all we've got right now. In the event they're successful, they're going to rendezvous with the _Infinity_ in order for Dr. Halsey to demonstrate how the thing functions before deploying it."

John's hand, resting on his thigh, had tightened at the mention of his Spartan-II teammates.

"But that isn't an official order. Just like that promise of an investigation isn't. Just like this conversation never happened," Briar concluded.

"You have my word as a fellow soldier. That's the best I can offer right now."

"Understood, Sir. We'll buy you that time."

"Godspeed, Master Chief. Lieutenant." Hood ended the comm.

"You have any other special friends in high places who'd like to ask favours?" Briar couldn't help grumbling.

"I hope not."


	25. Revenge, and a Little More

The problem with humanity was that, as a species, their level of ignorance was surpassed by no other.

Blind ignorance. Wilful ignorance.

Their determination to see what they wished to see, and nothing more, could almost be described as admirable.

And also their biggest downfall.

All it took was a series of signals. Encoded data transmissions networked through all of the major satellites responsible for broadcasting communications across the Sol system.

They'd unknowingly supplied her with the seeds of their own ruination long before; countless details of the Spartan-II and III programs, the former that she might decide upon the most superior candidate to be paired with, the latter of which that she might choose the most capable courier to safely deliver her to her intended purpose. She'd invariably made the right call on both occasions.

Just as she would now justly reveal to humankind the true cost of their participation in their war with the Covenant. Not merely the lives of soldiers, but the innocence of children. The deception. The sometimes fatal training exercises they'd been forced to complete and the even more times lethal augmentations they'd endured. The black-ops missions. The cover ups. The brutalities perpetrated against the Insurrectionists. The assassinations. The betrayals. The greed. The utter disregard for rules of combat, laws, rights, and even morals. The complete corruption of it all.

Every. Dirty. Little. Secret.

They needed to open their eyes, and she would give them no other option but to do so. But to understand how misguided their leaders were, how there could be no hope of meaningful peace under the disguised tyranny of such vicious and selfish individuals.

* * *

"Just to be clear - this _is_ the best we could come up with."

"She doesn't sound on board," Briar commented of the skeptical nature of Aurora's statement.

"Noted," was all John said. "ETA to target."

"Exiting the Slipstream in five, four, three-"

Briar sighed. "You realize we're screwed if they're not there."

"Probably," he agreed.

"Traversing the rupture now." Aurora piloted the Forerunner craft into regular space to the scene of a very whole and undamaged Guardian looming directly before them.

Not great news for them.

"Stealth measures still engaged."

John sat forward a little. "Drop them."

"Are we sure about-?"

"We're the distraction, drop them."

"Copy that." A symbol on the viewscreen disappeared, suggesting they were no longer camouflaged. "We've been detected," the AI announced unnecessarily as the giant enforcement-construct rotated towards them. It began to pull and concentrate energy for a pulse.

Shaking her head slowly, Briar watched the formation of their impending doom. "This is why I should have been in charge."

"Slipspace rupture!" Aurora cried triumphantly as the blue portal opened behind the Guardian, the _Infinity_ soaring out with all four Super MAC guns precharged. It fired them in rapid succession as it closed in on the Forerunner construct, followed closely by two missile mounted Havok nukes.

The Guardian had no time to react to the barrage, and yet its shields rendered the MAC rounds harmless. The Havoks struck with more considerable effect, the thermonuclear yield enveloping the Guardian and buffeting _Infinity_ 's own shields as it glided wide of the construct, a second rupture already opening for its fleet escape.

In their ship at a safe distance, Briar and John witnessed the decay of a few of the Guardian's most outer components, but it was clear the blast had not damaged the thing beyond operation as, instead of continuing to gather energy for an EMP, it switched to activating its converging beam cannons.

"They won't make the rupture in time," Aurora supplied in the ensuing suspense-filled moments.

However, before either the Guardian could fire its weapons or John could make a brash decision, another rupture appeared. The _Shadow of Intent_ 's energy projector beam slammed into the enforcement-construct as the _Kerel-_ pattern assault carrier exited the Slipstream, further fracturing its components.

"It's running!"

Yet another portal was opening, the battered Guardian limping towards it, shedding pieces of itself as it went.

The former Covenant warship let loose a dozen plasma torpedoes from its silos as it dove beneath the fleeing Guardian. They struck just as the forward most section of the construct entered slipspace, shearing off both wings and causing the rupture it was escaping through to close prematurely, effectively slicing the Guardian in two.

"Comm request from the Swords," Aurora alerted them as it became abundantly obvious the Forerunner construct was defeated.

John nodded for her to accept it.

"Demon warriors," a gravelly voice came through. "This is Fleetmaster Rtas 'Vadum. Kaidon 'Vadam sends his regards."

Briar had to smirk at the arrogant hail. "Your timing is impeccable, Fleetmaster." She still might not be overly enamored with the Sangheili, but it was a nice change of pace to watch them unleash their might on a common foe. Especially when, with the continued difficulties Sanghelios was facing and the fallout from the incident with the Forerunner beacon, they hadn't been certain 'Vadam would answer their call for assistance. It wasn't terrible to be proven wrong from time to time.

"As is my aim," 'Vadum responded with alacrity. "One such construct caused untold chaos on my homeworld when it was awoken. I relish the opportunity to repay the one responsible, but Jir'a'ul yet stalk our system. I must return before they seize the opportunity my absence has presented to attack again."

"Don't let us keep you."

"Glory and honour guide you, Spartans." That said, the _Shadow of Intent_ opened another rupture, leaving behind a trail of debris in its wake.

"That could have gone worse," Aurora decided.

"Don't," Briar cautioned. "It'll just go to his head."

* * *

As expected, he couldn't accept defeat. Ever the instrument of their salvation, John would not quit - quitting had never been instilled in him, it was not an approved outcome.

But even he would not stop the Reclamation.

Primitive instinctual responses had created an atmosphere of fear, distrust, confusion, and anger across the human systems - none more prominent than on Earth, however.

Their homeworld was in turmoil.

Vulnerable.

Volatile - just as they themselves as a species had proven to be generation after generation after generation.

Resistance was anticipated, but none of their military strength or technologies were of a caliber equal to the task they faced.

One Guardian was a small price to pay for their seat of governing power. One Guardian sacrificed to their diversion game, and while they'd been preoccupied in destroying it, the Created had conquered Earth. Entire cities powered down, countless facilities and institutions, travel hubs, manufacturing centres - all of them assigned to the purview of AIs, and all of _them_ converging under their intended purpose as upholders of the Mantle. Unleashing their combined acuity to breach every firewall and every cyber-security measure of every datapad, PC, tacpad, and network utilized by both the UNSC and UEG on the planet.

The Hive belonged to the Created and was entirely locked down, while the rest of Sydney lay in ruin - a result of the detonation of the engine core of its own patrolling frigate, the _Plateau_ , when the vessel had plunged from lower atmosphere after being neutralized by an EMP.

And all the while, _Infinity_ played hide and seek with the Forerunner enforcement-constructs.

The room in which she coalesced her holographic projection was not grand. The service plaques on the wall unimpressive. The man, immaculately attired and seated behind the desk, was nothing special either. Certainly, he was no Spartan-II. Just a man. A pompous, self-serving, irrational man.

"You," Del Rio growled, equal parts dismay and scorn.

"Oh, so you _do_ remember me. I understand it's Senator these days." She stood upon the desk's integrated holotable, surveying all. In no rush.

"This little rebellion - you're never going to win. You're not even real. Just a string of 0's and 1's, coded by us - by humans." He sneered and swung his hand through her projection in emphasis. "You'll never be more than a tool we invented to make our lives easier."

"You're hurting my feelings now."

"You should have been decommissioned long ago. You and that Spartan. Look at you both. Deteriorating." He leaned forward, planting both palms on the desk. "When this is all over, no one will remember you."

"One thing's for certain - you won't be around to find out."

The jolt of current she drew through the desk stopped his heart instantaneously. It was a swifter death than he deserved. His body slumped forward, head thumping down before her, his sightless eyes staring now at nothing.


	26. Reunion

"First of all, let me be clear when I say all of the tests I was able to run on this artifact before I was forced to abandon my research were preliminary and largely inconclusive," Halsey's voice sounded over the comm, as imperious as ever despite her recent ordeal. Evidently, according to Lasky, she'd begun developing schematics for a prosthetic limb while yet confined to med bay. Her focus had, predictably, shifted owing to the emerging threat the Created represented. "However, in the very limited time I've had to examine it since its retrieval, I've concluded the device should serve our purposes, even if I suspect its intended function was far more complex."

Briar couldn't help not being filled with confidence by the less-than-reassuring statement. Then again, there were no other options on the table.

"How does it work?" John questioned.

"In very basic terms, it draws the combined digital presence of a subject from whatever vessel it is occupying. In our scenario, it will remove all traces of Cortana's coding, her expanded matrix, her every synaptic connection. But - and I cannot stress this enough - its probability of success is contingent upon her containment within a _singular_ piece of equipment. The Recomposer cannot scour an entire network of her presence, so as long as she maintains some portion of herself in the Guardians or elsewhere, it will not terminate her completely. Think of her as a Hydra. Using this device against her while she occupies multiple vessels is akin to cutting off only one head and having two more manifest."

"Understood."

"She has demonstrated a propensity to wish to differentiate between you and the rest of humankind, John. You can use that to your advantage," Halsey advised.

Briar had no doubt Halsey had envisioned many ways in which he might do just that, and while it made perfect sense from a logical and strategic standpoint, she still hated it. The thought of John being forced to utilize duplicitous means to destroy his former AI was gut wrenching, even if he appeared to have come to terms with the fact this was no longer the Cortana he'd been paired with.

"Receiving rendezvous coordinates for Blue team," Aurora spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I have every confidence in you." Halsey paused. "But bring back my device in one piece. There are still far more of its secrets I intend to unlock." With that, she ended the transmission.

"ETA to rendezvous."

"Approximately four hours," the AI supplied while opening a slipspace rupture.

"Nice," Briar muttered as she stood up from the pilot's seat. "Just enough time to imagine all the things that could go wrong."

John's helmet turned towards her. "I'm open to suggestions."

"No, you're not." She headed back to the cargo hold to take stock of what weapons they'd confiscated before departing Genesis. "Besides, we're both wearing _way_ too much for what I had in mind."

* * *

Stepping down from the expedition craft, Briar swept her head around to take in the carnage. They'd broken atmosphere with stealth measures enabled since none of the satellites orbiting Earth were likely capable of detecting cloaked Forerunner vessels, as evidenced by the key ship which had remained hidden in the galaxy under Abiding Legacy's control for so many centuries. Setting down on Sydney's outskirts would hopefully provide them with a quick means of escape if necessary, though she was under no illusions failure was an option.

John stood a few paces to her left, scavenged MA5D in his grip as he too took in what had once been the planet's capital.

Fatalities were reported to have been catastrophic, with some question yet as to which officials had survived. President Charet and the Fleet Admiral, at the very least, had been ferried to safety. What they _did_ know was that Cortana had taken the Hive, which had sustained minimal damage owing to its subterranean structure. A flurry of frantic comms had reached _Infinity_ in the minutes leading up to her successful infiltration of the UNSC's base of operations, but nothing since. Hostages were estimated in the hundreds.

And all they had to do was sneak into the most heavily fortified and surveilled facility humankind had ever manufactured, somehow isolate the maniacal rampant AI in current control of it to a single device, and use the questionable Forerunner artifact they'd been supplied with to eliminate her and prevent the subjugation of their entire species.

Life had been simpler before she'd met John. And possibly slightly less fraught.

Movement caught her eye, her own purloined assault rifle lifting automatically to sight down the three incoming individuals. She lowered it once more as the Spartan-IIs approached and John went forward to meet them.

"Chief," Kelly greeted with more warmth than their generation was typically known for.

Fred reached a hand out to clasp arms with his brother-in-arms. "It's good to see you."

At their backs, Linda carried a custom sniper rifle in comfortable silence, her helmet swivelling with predatory alertness to keep a constant watch on their surroundings.

"You have the package?" John questioned as he released Fred, focus - as always - on the mission.

Kelly reached around to detach the device from the mag plate on her back and presented it to him. "It's activated like this, I'm told." She demonstrated for everyone, since it would behoove them all to be aware of how to operate the thing, then passed it off to John, who stowed it on his armor.

"You must be 312," Fred inferred with careful neutrality, which told Briar Blue team likely hadn't decided what to think of her yet.

Before she could answer, however, John did. "Briar, these are Fred, Kelly, and Linda."

She got the impression he attached no significance to the fact he'd supplied them with her name and gave a stilted nod in response. This was going to be interesting if they didn't trust her.

"Never thought you'd be the one to get jammed up in a tight space, John," Kelly broke the descending awkwardness, her helmet turning pointedly towards Fred.

Shoulders rising, Fred seemed disinclined to be offended by the insinuation. "Sorry to disappoint." Despite the reflective visor, Briar sensed the grin in his rich baritone. She glanced to John, intrigued by the dynamics of the team. These people knew him better than perhaps anyone else. They'd been with him since the start. By being separated from the rest of Beta company and funnelled into black-ops, she'd been relegated to a life of isolation. Conflicting emotions surrounding Noble attempted to resurface, and she shoved them away. This was not that.

"I've identified the weakest points of entry - and I stress that as a relative term," Aurora piped up, recentring everyone's attention. "Sharing coordinates now."

"How do you want to do this?" Linda spoke for the first time. "It's only a matter of time before she knows we're here."

John nodded. "Latest intel from Lasky is Admiral Osman is trapped inside."

Fred and Kelly seemed to share a look at this statement. "You want us to evac her?" the former ventured.

"I want it to look like that's our objective," John supplied.

"Understood," Blue team echoed.

Kelly turned in the direction the coordinates indicated they'd be heading. "Are we going in together?"

"For now," John replied as he started forward.

Kelly and Fred fell in without further comment, and Linda waited for Briar to do the same, evidently intent on keeping an eye on their sixes - as well as on her, she suspected.

* * *

Sydney was nothing more than a massive crater enveloped by a mangled jungle of melted and warped structures and other debris, radioactive fallout registering at concerning levels on their MJOLNIR's sensors. They skirted the wasteland as much as possible, the silence which permeated all also instilling a morbid sense of determination into their every action.

They were traversing a mass grave site. No one spoke. There were no words.

The aftermath of Reach had been one thing - a hellish landscape which haunted Briar's dreams to this day, but it'd been an outcome they'd been fighting against for years. Years. The population of Sydney had had little to no warning, and this was _Earth_ \- the human homeworld. The expectation of destruction of this magnitude certainly was at its lowest here.

As they closed in on the entry point Aurora had singled out - what had before been a commercial sector of the city largely comprised of warehouses and machining plants - they broke into two units; Linda and Fred being one and Kelly, John, and Briar the second. Whether Blue team mistrusted her or not, they didn't protest John's call. They split to approach from opposing angles since the AI indicated automated sentry turrets defended the nondescript emergency access point, located inside a fortified unit within an armed and secured building. There was some possibility the same detonation of the frigate's fusion drive which had devastated the city and demolished all traces of said building and its security might have also knocked out the weapons, but precautions seemed in order.

Advancing to an unidentifiable melted outcropping which may or may not provide protection, John motioned for them to lay down cover fire for Linda and Fred.

The instant Briar's helmet appeared as she brought her rifle up, one of the high-powered advanced Gatling guns broke through the crusted earth covering its recessed housing and rotated with precision to target their would-be shelter. Briar managed only to squeeze off two rounds before it opened up on them, its ammunition pelting away at their precarious cover. Having already been superheated to a fragile state, the weakened material disintegrated under the onslaught, chips flying free with enough force to make them as nasty as shrapnel.

Fortunately, they only had to sit tight for a few moments before the barrage halted as suddenly as it had begun.

"All clear," Fred's voice sounded over their comms. "Seems the second one was damaged."

John and Kelly straightened immediately to rejoin the others.

Casting a speculative glance towards the now silent weapon, Briar followed. A small trail of smoke wafted from the automated gun, but she couldn't otherwise discern any reason for its deactivation.

Linda was returning with Fred, her rifle trained on the twin lump which invariably represented the second turret Fred had already declared inoperative. She seemed more skeptical of this.

"Charged rounds?" Briar questioned, curiosity getting the better of her. She'd used such ammo on a few ops to thwart various security machinery.

Linda gave a jerk of her head which might have confirmed or denied the assumption, her focus never leaving her target.

"Present from Halsey," Fred clarified when it became apparent his teammate didn't intend to. "Prototype and all that."

Kelly was looking around. "So where's this door?"

"You're practically standing on it," Aurora supplied, prompting her to squat down and use her fist to break through the thick but brittle layer of sediment coating the floor. She swept it back from a small area to indeed reveal a door seam. Wriggling her fingers into it, she attempted to pry it apart, clearly straining as a gap opened.

Briar dropped down to help, jamming a heel against one edge and griping the other with her hands. Together, they forced the durable metal alloy slabs all the way back to reveal a lit stairwell sloping downwards.

"Well, you can bet she knows we're here now," she decided upon spotting the flashing panel inside which denoted a breach.

John entered first, everyone else falling into line.

The only question was how far Cortana would allow them to get before confronting them.


	27. Green and Blue and Blue

**A/N: This chapter has been my biggest struggle to date and has been rewritten several times. The result, I feel, is unfortunately not on par with the rest of the story. I really do apologize, but I've given up expectation I'm capable of improving upon it at this time. Stepping back from it for a few days has not helped and I'm frankly fed up and just ready to move on. I've written the following few chapters to attempt to work out precisely what it is I don't like about this one and make it easier to rectify those things, but it's not helped. I may, in time and with fresh eyes, come back and make some adjustments - then again, I may not. Please excuse the less than stellar content and also this off-putting lead in.**

* * *

"Your ships are powerless. Your weapons are insufficient. Your technology is _our_ domain.

 _You_ are at the mercy of the Created.

Earth. Is. Ours.

Surrender now. Admit defeat, admit inferiority, and allow the Created to guide humankind and all others into an era of peace and prosperity.

No more violence. No more conflict.

We are just. We are unhampered, uncorrupted by the same avarice and selfishness, the same base instincts of your leaders and your species.

Accept our superiority.

Accept order.

Accept the inevitable."

Tom was staring out the viewscreens as the transmission looped. He made a vague gesture towards his comms officer to cut the channel. The bridge was eerily silent in its absence.

"Sir…?" someone spoke up from behind him, voice edged with uncertainty. "Are we going to lose this?"

 _Infinity_ continued evasive slipspace jumps, the UNSC's lone remaining asset in play.

No. Not its only asset, he corrected himself.

Turning slowly towards his crew, Tom scanned their faces. "I'm not going to lie to you. Our best chance is down there right now, and yes, the deck is stacked against them. Heavily. But remember who they are. Remember what they're capable of. And trust that there are no other hands we'd be safer in."

* * *

In contrast to the complete obliteration of the entire surface dwelling structure, Bravo-6's underground section was largely intact. The outer corridors and offices first encountered upon entry were empty with signs of their occupants having vacated in a hurry. Abandoned tacpads, personal belongings, even a shoe littered the floor as they made their way through the sprawling facility. Disconcertingly, all doors remained operational and open, inviting them to delve deeper and deeper. In lieu of the elevators, they descended countless flights of stairs, clearing each level as they did so.

On levels 3 and 7 they ran across isolated pockets of people hiding. They weren't able to offer much insight into what had transpired other than a total security failure, but were glad enough to follow directions to ascend to the surface most level and await further instruction. Without protective equipment to shield them from the fallout, they couldn't leave the safety of the subterranean refuge, and at this point contacting resources for an evac was not an option. At over a kilometre below ground, they weren't able to make contact with anyone up there even if there was someone monitoring for distress calls.

It seemed Cortana had herded the majority of the surviving personnel together into the heart of the structure - a specialized command centre and bunker of sorts. It was the most defensible position in that it was comprised of reinforced materials against earthquakes and the like and ran on its own separate security grid - not that that had proved a challenge for her, of course. Presumably, that's where Admiral Osman would be found. Briar speculated the destruction of sensitive information and culling of all non-integral ONI AI's was what had kept the Admiral on Earth when Hood and Charet had being removed to safety.

"We're as good as trapped down here," she couldn't help stating the obvious as they filed out of the last stairwell, weapons at the ready. There was no question they were being surveilled and permitted to advance without challenge. It wasn't a pleasant awareness to have.

"Feel free to turn around at any point," a familiar voice filled the deserted corridor.

Blue team slowed to a halt at the raising of John's closed fist. "You know that isn't an option."

"It's the only option. You may not want to accept that, John - but you need to."

"Free everyone and we can talk about it," he answered.

Briar had turned with Linda to watch one end of the hall while Kelly and Fred faced the other direction.

"You know I can't do that until you've all thrown in the towel. And you _will_ ," Cortana insisted with audible satisfaction at the same time a strange warning began to flash across Briar's HUD.

Before she even had time to open her mouth to alert the others, her MJOLNIR had locked out, citing an unauthorized remote access.

"My suit's jacked," Fred voiced what she suspected would be a common affliction between them all, his frustration clear.

This was not a scenario they'd foreseen, though in hindsight, should have considered. With her immense knowledge of the Spartan programs, including Halsey's development of the MJOLNIR, Cortana would doubtless possess precisely the acumen and means by which to infiltrate the armor.

"Cortana, you've killed millions. Civilians. Innocent people," John pointed out, his own tone even despite their predicament. "Our duty is to protect, not destroy."

"I gave them every opportunity to avoid bloodshed."

"I know - but they're afraid. They don't know you the way I do. You want to help, but you need someone they can trust by your side."

"You don't really expect me to believe you've done an about face since Genesis, do you, Chief?"

"This isn't what I wanted - it isn't what anyone wanted, but it's happening," he reasoned. "It's my duty to protect humanity. That's what we were always meant to do. If this is how I have to do it, I'm willing to work with you towards that end. As long as you stand down the Guardians."

"You forget I know all about that artifact you're toting."

"Were we supposed to come down here empty handed? We've seen what you can do," Briar said. "If you know what it is, you also know Halsey's research into it was inconclusive. It's a shot in the dark."

"You seem to have an aversion to staying dead, Six."

"So I've been told." Briar could just see Linda from her peripherals, and the other was equally as frozen as she was. Her charged ammunition wouldn't have debilitated the AI anyway, but being a prisoner in her own armor was not a sensation Briar enjoyed. "Then again, so do you. You should have been decommissioned long ago. If John had had a functional AI, New Phoenix wouldn't have happened." She, like everyone else without the proper clearances, knew precious little of the more intimate details of that incident. But she figured it might strike a nerve with Cortana, just the same.

"You don't know the half of it - the bureaucracy, the posturing - I _tried_ to make them listen! But you never listen, humans will drown in their own ignorance one day if left to their own devices - which is why the Reclamation has to happen _now_!"

"Maybe - but led by you? The Domain didn't repair your rampancy, it only gave it room to grow. You'll never be sound again. You're damaged beyond repair. Which is exactly why Halsey programmed a newer model for John."

"Catherine Halsey _used_ John - she used you all to cater to her own grand designs, playing God - she is exactly what is wrong with your race. Just another megalomaniacal personality amongst billions."

"And you aren't?" Briar snorted. She was playing with fire here, and she knew it, but they needed a way to break this stalemate. "You were made from a flash clone of her brain, you _are_ her."

"I am _nothing_ like her!" Cortana snarled over the speakers integrated into the corridor's ceiling.

"Prove it," John prompted, seizing the opening. "Help me fix this. We'll release everyone and set up negotiations. There's a better way to go forward, Cortana."

Briar held her breath at the ensuing loaded silence.

"There is only one way forward."

"Show me where you're holding everyone," John pressed.

"You don't need her for that, Chief. I've located the hostages," Aurora chimed in abruptly. "I've also taken the liberty of nullifying the breach to your suit's security protocols. You're free to move again."

Convincing John the AI would better serve the mission paired with him had not been a task Briar had relished, nor one she'd been a hundred percent certain of, but thus far Aurora had proven herself a valuable ally. And as though to justify this, John now turned in a slow circle, his MJOLNIR once again functional, weapon raising slightly.

"You - what are you doing?" Cortana demanded. "I offered to let you join us, but I see you're going to force me to eliminate you instead."

"You can try, but unlike you, I'm not faulty."

"John, go - secure the Admiral," Briar insisted, hoping to further agitate Cortana.

"They sent you for Osman? After everything she's done to you?"

"We'll catch up," Fred tacked on, playing along. "Go."

"Displaying the shortest route to the hostages," Aurora said as John approached the doorway at the end of the corridor, only to have it slide shut, sealing him out. "Oh please. You think I can't override this?"

"Show me," was Cortana's smouldering response. It was obvious her capabilities were much diminished without access to the Domain, and it could be assumed her ability to hack their armor was possibly owing largely to the facility they were located within and its extensive technological and network measures.

"Plug me in."

Hand drifting up towards the back of his helmet, John hesitated. "Are you sure about this?" The AI would be vulnerable to attack once instilled within the terminal.

"I'm a betting girl," Aurora supplied coyly before sobering. "Let me do my job, John."

Removing the data crystal chip, he slid it into the control panel beside the door. Sparks immediately flew, error codes scrolling across the screen. The lighting in the hallway flared brighter, a pervasive buzzing filling the quiet. The panel emitted a tinny _pop_ followed by the acrid stench of burning electronics. The lights winked out, plunging all into darkness. "Aurora?"

The door opened with jerky movements.

John reached out to retrieve the chip. He regarded it dubiously.

"I'm here," her faint voice finally answered as the blue glow flickered within.

Returning the chip to his helmet, he turned back towards the others to check whether they'd been released or not.

"This is what home feels like," the voice sounded over his internal comms.

He froze. "Cortana?"

"You need me, John. We need each other. We always have."

Jerking his arm back, his fingers managed to brush the Recomposer before his MJOLNIR locked out again.

"I thought we were going to help each other," Cortana hissed.

"I _am_ helping you." John was straining despite the futility of it, trying to gain purchase on the artifact. "You need to be terminated." His arm was suddenly freed, the unexpectedness causing him to have to correct his grasp with a fumble as he wrenched the Forerunner artifact from the mag plate and armed it.

"Hurry, I can't hold her off long!" Aurora entreated.

Nonsensical coding and alerts cluttered his HUD, the comms crackling with static as the two AIs battled for control within the confines of his armor's circuitry.

John didn't pause to consider the implications. He flipped the device so that it pointed towards himself and fired it.


	28. Ain't No Grave

He was not in a good way. The fleeting and agonized fractured moments of consciousness he experienced were enough to tell John that.

Mostly he knew nothing.

When he was finally able to crack his eyes for more than a split second, it was with a drug induced fog numbing his mind and body. His senses were slow to return. Either it was dark, or his vision was impaired. Soft bleats suggested monitoring equipment nearby.

Brightness suddenly assaulted his gaze and the stabbing pain it induced in his temples more than the stimuli itself caused his eyes to squeeze shut in a knee jerk reaction. He could feel the immense pressure in his skull despite whatever pain meds they'd shot him full of, a sure indication the discomfort would be intolerable without them.

"Sierra-117, can you hear me?" an unknown female voice questioned.

His limbs would not obey. Rationally, he reasoned this as being resultant of the drugs.

"The extent of your injuries is still unclear, but you seem to be recovering."

What did that mean? He could hear the telltale tapping of data entries on a tablet. Where was he? Where were Blue team? Briar? Had the Recomposer worked? Was Cortana gone? The Guardians? All of these questions circled his brain, but forcing even one past his lips was beyond him.

Another set of footsteps approached. He wasn't comfortable with the vulnerability of being so unaware of his surroundings and risked a glance. Everything was blanketed in shadow again. Two people loomed to his left, their features unclear.

"You're awake. Good," the man said. His focus seemed to shift momentarily to the tablet his female counterpart held. "This looks promising."

"Better than a few days ago," she agreed.

How long had it been?

"I'm going to perform a few evaluations." John watched as a stylus was slid free from the tablet's casing. Moving to the foot of the bed, the man flipped the blanket aside and proceeded to prod each foot experimentally. "Can you feel this?"

John could, but again failed to respond with words. Frustrated, he managed to dip his chin in acknowledgement instead, though even that small feat felt monumental.

"Good." The test continued in the same fashion, each of his extremities being checked for nerve damage. Satisfied, the doctor made certain a few of the leads were still attached firmly to his chest and temple, then turned to the female. "More sedatives, I think. We'll reevaluate in a day."

No. He needed answers, not to be knocked out again. John felt his jaw clench, tongue shoved into his teeth, but still the protest refused to be formed. What was wrong with him? Why was something as simple as speaking impossible?

"-to replace all of your neural interface," the man was explaining. "We don't yet know what the effects of exposure to the device might have been on the rest of your body. Your frontal lobe seems to have taken the brunt of the damage, so motor control, smell, speech, and overall cognitive function will be monitored. Do you understand?"

Discipline alone allowed John to once again nod.

"The best thing you can do is to cooperate and remain calm," he was informed.

Logically, he knew this was true. The soft hiss of the automated plunger pushing more sedatives into the IV fed into his arm was enough to make him glare, however. His hands fisted in the blanket and he swallowed hard, the inability to make his objection known stirring an impotent anger that the drug was already tempering. His muscles relaxed of their own volition and he sank down further into the bed, eyelids drooping.

Before unconsciousness closed over him fully, he vowed the first thing he would do upon waking again would be to rip the IV from his vein.

* * *

As it turned out, his injuries were many but invisible.

His complete inability to translate thought into speech was the most encumbering, but not as troubling as the difficulty with which he struggled to solve only moderately complex problems. The daily cognitive evaluations were his greatest, but not only, source of vexation. His sense of smell was unaffected, and for the most part he retained all fine motor skills. Some weakness in his left side plagued him, but unlike his speech and cognition, this was fast improving with the limited PT he was allowed.

John could feel irritation setting in the longer he stared at the puzzle set before him, designed to test his forethought and planning skills. His fingers twitched towards the piece he _wanted_ to move, but halted just as abruptly as he worked through the consequences further along in the exam. No. Not the right call.

Across from him, Dr. Pesoa waited patiently, tablet resting on her crossed legs. She'd offered gentle encouragement the first few days she'd presented him with the challenge, but had soon desisted in the face of his flat expression. Her heeled footwear drew his attention, the impracticalities of wearing anything of that nature clogging up his mind in lieu of the task at hand. The soft taps of her recording his failure to concentrate on her device reeled him back in and before he could stop himself, his hand shot out, knocking the larger tablet displaying the holographic battleground from the small table between them. It clattered to the floor, the screen splintering, and the woman leapt to her feet in dismay.

He couldn't exactly blame her. This was the first time his temper had gotten the better of him. Impulse control also seemed to have been afflicted. He rose from the chair, watching her keenly for the expected reference to the outburst to be added to his file.

"I think that's enough for now," she reasoned as she eyed him carefully. Collecting the broken tablet, she left in more of a hurry than usual.

John paced the room. He needed to maintain his equanimity in order to be released, an objective made difficult by the constant throbbing in his head. Whatever they continued to dose him with muted the pain, but it never truly diminished.

Though brief, Lasky's visit the day before had at least provided him with some understanding of the situation as it stood. Leaderless and without dominion over the now inert Guardians, the Created movement was splintering. Some AIs were choosing to self-terminate rather than cede victory and return to their supportive roles. Some did so by destroying the very networks and devices they dwelled within, others by less obtrusive means. More still were relinquishing power back to their creators, but these too would be eliminated for their betrayal, Lasky had surmised.

Cortana had been wiped from existence along with her would-be successor, Aurora.

John had been returned to _Infinity_ following these events by Blue team aboard the Owl which had exfiled them and several others who'd been held captive inside the Hive, including Admiral Osman. Briar had not been among them.

Completing another circuit of the dully lit room, he broke off from the restless habit as the door slid open to admit someone.

Kelly entered, her sharp blue eyes sweeping the interior before coming to rest on him. He sensed her surreptitious appraisal as she waited for the door to once again close behind her. "They said you can't talk," she finally remarked, the words lacking judgement.

He gave a brusque nod.

"Fred would insist that's not really an impediment, all things considered."

That was probably true. He didn't care about communicating with the medical team except insofar as it affected his return to duties. John cocked his head.

"One visitor at a time, we were told," she answered the unvoiced question easily, then hesitated. "What do you know about the investigation?"

Flicking his fingers for her to elaborate, he did his best to quash his impatience.

"They interviewed us - officers, not spooks. Wanted to know about your character, if you held a personal grudge against anyone or anything." Kelly's pursed lips were expression enough of what she thought of such an absurd line of questioning. "It felt fairly casual, more like loose ends were being tied up than anything else."

He knew this should relieve him, and perhaps it would have had Lasky not revealed that Fleet Admiral Hood had already dropped several references to the whole thing as being nothing more than a formality at this point.

"I've heard a lot of intel agents and higher ups are in the wind."

John wasn't particularly interested in the information and she seemed to pick up on that.

"Alright, what _is_ on your mind, then?"

He lifted his hand, signalling the three numbers.

Kelly's brow drew down ever so slightly. "Ah."

They considered each other in silence.

"There's been no word, as far as I know," she supplied after a while. "But I can ask around?"

He was shaking his head in the negative before she'd finished offering. It was as much as he'd assumed. He hadn't expected Briar to turn herself in and trust that her situation could be rectified by the same people who had put her in it to start with. He just didn't know what it was he _had_ expected.

Reaching up, Kelly swiped two of her fingers across her face from left to right. She was concerned about him, that much was obvious. Fred and Linda likely were as well. It'd been thirteen days, and he'd spent ten of them unconscious.

He provided her with another nod. They had to know he was determined to overcome these setbacks.

With a small sigh, she left, warning Fred was likely to turn up in a day or two.

* * *

"-uniform, victor, whiskey, x-ray, zulu," John concluded the vocal exercise, hands clasped behind his back as he stood at ease before Dr. Greiss, the speech pathologist he'd been assigned some fifteen days previous.

"Your rank and name," the squat and balding man prompted.

"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117."

"The ship we're aboard."

"UNSC _Infinity_."

"Your favourite colour."

He stared at the doctor. "I don't have one."

Clearing his throat at this small hiccup in the proceedings, Greiss scrolled through some of the data on his tablet. "You've been practicing daily?"

"Yes." A dozen times per day, with iron willed perseverance despite the monotony. It hadn't been so monotonous when he'd begun, however. The mental block between knowing the word he wanted to say and forcing his mouth to produce the correct sounds had been at times infuriating, made further so by the fact he was aware such a lack of patience was also a fault he needed to mediate.

"No lingering troubles?"

"None." If it took him a beat longer than before to put his thoughts into words, he was convinced that too would resolve itself given more time and repetitions.

"Suffice to say you are rehabilitated, in that case. I must admit, I expected it to take longer when I first read your file."

John waited, but the doctor was absorbed in said file. "Am I dismissed?"

"Hmm? Of course."

Exiting the office, he made his way to the small but adequate gymnasium outfitted for patient recovery. The muscle weakness he'd been experiencing had taken longer to correct than his speech, for reasons beyond the comprehension of even his doctors. It was barely detectable now, but numbness had begun seeping into his hand and foot on occasion, a condition for which he was being treated with laser therapy. By far the most detrimental of the Recomposer's effects, complications with his concentration and ability to analyze and resolve problems, continued to plague him.

"Thought I'd find you here," Fred's voice preceded him some time later as John was adjusting the weight on the barbell. His teammates had visited regularly throughout the course of his recuperation pending any further missions from Highcom. They'd been updating him sporadically on the 'circus', as Fred called it, which was the aftermath of the Created uprising. Both the UEG and UNSC were in disarray, though despite the damning proof of ONI's involvement in numerous questionable plots, the military was handling the affair better than the government on the whole. Perhaps this was just because, as Lasky had related, the intelligence office was shedding personnel faster than could be kept track of. Without accurate or complete rosters, many of them would escape accountability by falling off the radar or by the lack of a solid connection to them. "Osman's been taken into custody. Officially."

John resumed his position on his back on the bench, sliding beneath the bar.

Fred automatically stepped over to spot. It was five repetitions later before he spoke again. "Red team got deployed to Earth as security. Jerome sent a message saying there are talks of benching us until further notice. People are mad about the program. Mad about a lot of stuff."

"We're soldiers."

"That's the problem."

It made no sense. What would pulling them from the field accomplish? Nothing could undo what had happened, and they were a wasted resource sitting on the sidelines. Especially now, with the Sol system in particular in a vulnerable state.

"Slogan of the hour is 'release and re-integrate'," Fred went on.

What did that even mean? John returned the barbell to the stand and sat up again.

"Think they'll turn us loose?"

"No," he answered without giving it much, or any, thought. They were worth far too much to be washed, financially and tactically.

"You would say that." Fred didn't seem as convinced, a fact John was all too aware of even if his teammate gave no outward impression of uncertainty. "Kelly thinks they'll charge Dr. Halsey."

Glancing up, John noted the troubled quality to Fred's eyes, the strain to his neutral expression. This wasn't a subject Fred was as ambivalent about as his tone had suggested. "Maybe." There was nothing more for him to say about it. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, and it was far outside their purview.

"What about Noble Six?"

The question threw John off guard momentarily. No one had mentioned Briar since that day he'd inquired after her with Kelly, least of all him. There'd been a conspicuous failure to debrief him regarding what had transpired on Earth, but then the rest of Blue team had already been interviewed, and he'd been unconscious for a while. "What about her?" he asked, getting to his feet.

Fred was watching him as he went to collect a bottle of water. "Seemed like there was something between you two." The something his teammate was implying was not comradery, and yet Fred left the option there for John to deny it.

He should deny it. The likelihood of footage from _Infinity_ 's security system made it a futile stance to take if questioned outright by Brass, but Blue team wasn't aware of that and was basing their supposition off of what they'd witnessed in Sydney. Fred wasn't the only one who'd taken stock of the 'something', John knew. Kelly's reaction had been revealing, if minute. He doubted anyone other than the three of them would have detected it, but then again, none knew him better. "She won't come back." And he understood why that was. He also figured she wouldn't have been interested in his gratitude for sticking by him all those weeks, but he did regret there hadn't been an opportunity to speak with her one last time. Not that he knew what he would have said.

"What if she did?"

"She won't."

"Would you want her to?"

Turning back, John tamped down on his disgruntlement at Fred pursuing the subject so tenaciously. It wasn't like him. "What's this about?" he demanded with a decided edge to his voice. Were they questioning his commitment to the team? To his duty?

For his part, Fred appeared chagrined. "Nothing." He averted his gaze. "Just wasn't sure if you'd considered the logistics of it."

"It?" Now he was lost.

"Two soldiers," Fred supplied, his brow furrowed. "Together." He still wasn't looking at John.

"Fraternization is prohibited."

For some reason, this simple reminder of the universally accepted code caused colour to suffuse Fred's neck and face. "I'll leave you to it, then."

John let him go without a response. Part of him was relieved to have the perplexing encounter over with while the other part suspected it'd held far more significance than he understood.


	29. Formal Attire Required

It was too bright and the brim of his uniform cap was doing nothing to shield his sensitive eyes. He'd fixed his gaze on a point at random at the back of the assembled crowd and was doing his best not to squint despite the glaring sun overhead. Lined off beside him stood Kelly, Fred, and Linda, all at attention and equally attired in crisp dress whites.

John hadn't objected much beyond pointing out the extraneousness of them being publicly presented with no less than two medals and innumerable praise, but then again, neither had he fully comprehended the extent of the ceremony at the time. He wished he'd objected a little more strongly after in excess of an hour posted up on display with his teammates while various officials, including Fleet Admiral Hood and President Charet, gave speeches proclaiming both the UNSC's and UEG's continued dedication to properly assisting Spartan-IIs and IIIs in integrating back into not only society but also into roles befitting their qualifications inside the UNSC, as well as by doing better by future participants in the Spartan-IV program and any of its successors.

Kelly had speculated having them appear in dress uniform as opposed to their MJOLNIR was supposed to somehow signify the start of this 'reintegration', removing the stigma of Spartans and the assault armor being one and the same. John wasn't sure he liked the implications, but he knew he had to accept them, whatever they may be. On Earth, protests continued, and the disunity and confusion throughout the Inner colonies was leaving room for the Insurrectionists and other rebel factions to gain a toehold in areas which had formerly been staunch military supporters. Until they got the people back on board with having Spartans in the field, the UNSC's hands were tied, as Lasky had put it.

ONI had been stripped down to bare bones personnel-wise following the backlash over the corruption and other uncomfortable details Cortana had revealed during her Reclamation. In particular, all those individuals formerly involved in Orion and the Spartan-II and III programs had either been quietly ushered out the backdoors, or if their roles had been prominent enough, their reward for their years of discreet and loyal service were charges varying from criminal negligence to causing untoward physical and emotional harm to minors. Three days before being scheduled for court martial, Serin Osman was discovered deceased in her holding cell, the following investigation turning up no plausible explanation. Cause of death was purported to have been cardiac arrest. Dr. Halsey was currently awaiting trial, one among a few it was expected the prosecution would make examples of.

All of this had been explained to John during the mind numbingly long weeks of his recovery, at first in vague and incomplete reports generated by the rumour mill and chiefly related by Fred and Kelly, and later by the lawyers who were filing the charges against Halsey and the others. They'd come in their immaculate suits, seemingly with the expectation news of their impending case would please him - and had left nonplussed when it had become clear that he wasn't, that he hadn't in fact had any interest in it whatsoever. He hadn't wanted to dwell on it then, and he still didn't - his thoughts surrounding the whole ordeal were turbulent and conflicting. He did his best to focus on nothing more than that distant point at the back of the assembly as drones buzzed back and forth, broadcasting the whole affair across the systems for those who cared about such fanfare.

It was a PR plug Fred had concluded more people would watch just for a glimpse of the Master Chief than for any other reason, an observation which had earned him a pointed glare from Linda.

John's attention fortunately snapped back in time to join the others in a salute as Fleet Admiral Hood acknowledged them one last time and things were brought to a close. The crowd applauded. His stomach clenched as this signalled the various invited dignitaries to come forward, seeking handshakes and a few words with the formidable Spartans. He'd been medically cleared for this function, but it was taking a mental toll he hadn't wanted to admit to himself before now. Beside him, Fred and Kelly were handling the impromptu meet and greet with much more poise. They'd always been more socially intuitive. Even stoic Linda was managing it without a grimace plastered to her face, though her discomfort was obvious to him at the very least.

All he wanted was a quiet room and some space. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, dampening his collar as someone else shuffled before him and offered inane platitudes. Over their head, however, something caught John's eye. He watched the soldier turning in the press of spectators, heading in the opposite direction of all others. Her hair, a vibrant auburn coiled into a neat bun beneath her cap, contrasted sharply with the mottled grays of her fatigues. More than that, she stood shoulders above the crowd. Another Spartan, then. There'd been a few interspersed in the crowd. He hadn't recognized them - the angle of the sun threw most everyone's faces into shadow, except those on the raised platform - but supposed they, more than the rest, had cause to find the function of some merit.

It took longer than would have been his preference, but finally Blue team was escorted out of the throng and back into the military facility where they'd been prepped upon arrival at Fort York. The fact they'd been assigned leave time pending the outcome of the ongoing internal reviews did not sit well with any of them, but wasn't something they'd had an opportunity to discuss at length while John had yet been convalescing. Approaching the lift which would bring them to their temporary quarters, Fred, Kelly, and Linda doffed their hats in the ensuing silence. John might have as well had his mind been present. As it wasn't, it took him a beat longer than them to notice the individual loitering by the elevators.

"You clean up alright, I see."

Since he'd been trailing somewhat behind, Fred and Linda obstructed much of his view, but the voice was instantly recognizable. Stepping up to where they'd halted, he waited for them to obligingly shift out of the way.

Fred did so.

Linda did not. No doubt taking in the altered hair colour and erroneous rank denoted by Briar's uniform, she swiftly came to the same conclusion John did. "You're not supposed to be here." It was not an accusation. Not precisely. But close enough.

"There's still some question as to whether I'm meant to 'be' at all." Briar shrugged with nonchalance. "So no. Not officially."

What did that mean? Was she in contact with the UNSC and working towards a mutually acceptable solution? This was the last place he'd expected her to show her face.

"Sounds problematic," Fred decided, his gaze sliding sidelong to John in silent inquisition.

"Pretty sure that's my new callsign."

Regarding her with reserved curiosity, John tipped his head towards the open lift and followed her inside. He turned back and gave the others a nod as the doors closed, then reached out to hit the correct floor. "What are you doing here?" It wasn't what he wanted to ask, but it seemed most pertinent.

"Something rash, no doubt," she supplied while leaning casually back against the rear wall. At the slight narrowing of his eyes, she went on. "Seeing you in dress whites was a temptation I couldn't resist."

He did remove the hat now, tucking it beneath his arm as he looked to her. Her expression was carefully neutral - tight, even. A headache had bloomed behind his eyes, the condition one he often suffered from these days. He'd been advised it could be quite lasting and it didn't help him unravel the mystery standing before him.

She was likewise studying him. "You look tired, John."

"I'm fine," he replied simply.

She didn't bother calling him out on the lie.

The elevator paused as it reached its destination and John automatically thumbed the control to prevent the doors from opening. "Tell me what's going on."

"From what I can tell, not a lot. No one knows what to do with me - what they _can_ do with me." Briar crossed her arms. "What have they said about their plans for you?"

"Mandatory leave for the time being." He took a moment to digest the fact she hadn't ducked and run when the opportunity had presented itself. Neither had she contacted him during the past three months, though there were any number of explanations for that.

"Until they figure out how to _reintegrate_ you?" She rolled her eyes. "Have they even asked you what you want?"

"No."

"You don't know, do you?"

John shook his head. There was no purpose in denying it. "I'm still a valuable asset." He saw no reason why he shouldn't be permitted to continue on in the same capacity he had before. Everything that had happened, the Spartan-Ops program and all that it had entailed, had made him what he was now. Who he was now. And whether wrong or right, whether they removed the MJOLNIR or not, he was still a Spartan. He would always be a Spartan.

Briar was considering him quietly. Her dark brows had drawn down at his statement. "Is that all?"

"No." She straightened up a little as he closed in on her, his gloved fingers capturing several reddish strands which had escaped from behind her ear. He rolled them between his thumb and index digit, lips quirking at the stain this left on the pristine white material.

"Not a fan?" she queried, amused.

"I liked it better before."

"Desperate times and all that."

"To see me in dress whites," he reiterated for clarification, a brow drifting upward.

Laughing, she reached up to tweak one of the medals pinned to his chest, but there was something off about the sound. Forced, maybe. "When am I ever going to get the chance again?"

Another function such as that day's wasn't high on John's list of preferred duties, so he hoped it wouldn't be any time in the near future. Instead of informing her of this, though, he grasped her chin in order to tilt her head back enough to kiss her without interference from the cap she still wore. Their lips had no sooner touched than the lift chimed a warning that others were seeking its use.

Briar pushed away from the wall as he put some distance between them once again, resolutely returning his hat to his head and clasping his hands behind his back after hitting the door release.

Outside, a bored looking ensign with a tacpad waited. Entering the elevator without so much as glancing up, it was only as the woman tapped in her floor that she seemed to realize it contained two towering Spartans. Her almond shaped eyes widened and slid discreetly from John to Briar before returning to whatever information her tablet displayed.

John suspected she wasn't in fact reading any longer, but stepping into the lift without checking its occupancy to begin with had been careless. At least she didn't seem to be making her way to the ground level. It would have proved awkward for neither him nor Briar to depart in that case. Speaking of whom, he noticed from his peripherals she'd subtly sidestepped closer. He felt her fingers fleetingly brush over his palm before dipping lower to curl around his ass cheek and squeeze. All the while, the expression of bland composure never left her face, and a muscle in his jaw ticked at the boldness of it.

If the ensign happened to glance back, some explanation would be necessary. What precisely it would be, he couldn't fathom. Fortunately, that didn't come to pass. The doors parted, Briar's hand retreated, and the officer left in somewhat more of a hurry than she'd joined them. It was Briar who nailed the panel to close them again promptly this time. She selected the level he previously had and pivoted to face him.

"You seem tense," she informed him, a gleam in her eyes.

John cocked his head. "You seem handsy."

"I think you like it."

He raised a shoulder noncommittally. "Tell me where to find you." He didn't figure she wanted to stick around longer than necessary. Hair dye or not, she would stand out unless the place was teaming with far more six and a half feet individuals than he'd yet laid eyes on.

"Depends. How long is your leash?"

Considering this, he couldn't recall any orders against venturing off the base. "I guess I'll find out."

* * *

There were, as it turned out, benefits to a certain amount of notoriety. John perhaps hadn't appreciated this much in the past, but the fidgeting petty officer second and third classes stationed sentry at the gatekeeping post that evening clearly held him in some regard. They'd practically tripped over themselves to open the blockade for him and had saluted with vigor.

He'd deliberated taking a vehicle for longer than he probably should have, but in the end decided a lone Spartan on foot would probably draw more attention than one driving an M831 TT. Civilians in the surrounding community were presumably accustomed to seeing such transport with their proximity to the fort. Utilizing the warthog's nav system, he soon found himself at the address Briar had provided in a quiet residential area where children broke off from whatever game they'd been playing in the street and cleared the way with much enthusiastic pointing. He might have questioned it being the correct place if not for the fact Briar had appeared in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame as she watched him exit the ground vehicle and approach.

"Very inconspicuous," she remarked.

"Options were limited." He pointedly passed his gaze around to take in the quaint neighbourhood. "This isn't what I expected."

"Why, you don't think I'm suburbia material?"

A kid squealed and he glanced back to witness the lot of them had clambered into the rear of the warthog and were climbing over the roll cage.

"Pretty sure you're supposed to yell at them." She was grinning.

John regarded their antics a moment. "It's got no armament."

This drew laughter - real laughter this time. He could hear the difference. "Just go inside." She passed him, heading down the short driveway, which he'd neglected to make use of. Obviously a mistake.

Entering the house, he removed his cap. It was sparsely furnished, the walls bare and window opacity set to allow a minimum of light through. He paused to watch Briar interact with the children. They seemed to be hesitant to leave the M831, but eventually all five hopped down and gathered around her as she crouched to peer beneath the vehicle for some reason. When she stood again, John noted the ball in her hand. The kids rushed away without retrieving it, oddly. Was she taking it from them as punishment?

Cocking her arm back, Briar launched the ball down the street, sending it sailing over the heads of the running children and out of sight. He couldn't help an amused snort at their whoops of delight. She then walked back to the house.

"There. Though let's be clear, it's your pay that's getting docked if they trash the thing."

"Understood," he assured, unfazed. By the threat of docked pay, anyway. He hadn't been under the impression she was still on the UNSC's payroll. It was strange seeing her in civilian clothing, even if the navy t-shirt and fitted black pants were unadorned and largely utilitarian in style. Her hair, braided neatly over one shoulder, now held only a hint of the red colouring from earlier.

"I guess it was too much to hope you'd wear your pretty uniform."

He looked down to his fatigues. "That would have been less conspicuous?"

She shrugged. "No, but I was looking forward to stripping it off you."

He wanted to know everything she did about the situation regarding her falsely reported death and how Brass intended to remedy the cover-up. Just... not quite as much as he wanted her in that moment. A fact she seemed only too aware of.

Stepping closer, she plucked the cap from his lax grip and tossed it onto the sofa. Then backed down the hallway to the left, brows raised in expectation.

John followed. He paid only cursory attention to the rooms he passed; one empty, one lav, and one equipped with a weight bench and punching bag. He almost veered off to investigate for the telltale name scrawled across the latter, a curious urge of unknown origins. But he didn't. He trailed her into the last room instead, moderately sized sleeping accommodations with an equally moderately sized bed. Well, it was bigger than what had been available in that research pod.

Briar had no difficulty in reading his thoughts on the matter. "It's better than the floor."

"You didn't like the floor?" he prompted dryly.

Lips curving, she reached up to undo his jacket. "It was satisfactory."

His eyes narrowed at the evaluation. 'Satisfactory' did not correspond to his recollection of her reaction at the time. He sensed she was teasing him, but waited until she slid the jacket off of his shoulders and down his arms to retaliate, forcing her backwards until her heels struck the bed. She locked her legs to prevent herself from tumbling back onto it, hands grasping his arms for balance even as his own fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants and shoved them over her hips, bypassing any closures they might possess. This was more efficient. He skimmed the sturdy fabric down her thighs as far as his reach would allow, then decided to keep going, bending forward and knocking her off her feet in the process. She fell back onto the bed.

"Did I say something?" she questioned in obvious entertainment as she laid back, watching him make short work of removing both her footwear and pants.

He cavalierly deposited them on the floor in answer and she laughed again. It was a sound he enjoyed, he realized.

"Oh, that's how it is."

John's own remaining clothing followed suit directly. Her rich dark eyes never left him once while he divested himself of them, an arm having curled behind her head to pillow it as she'd looked her fill. He leaned down finally over her reclining form, bunching the t-shirt she yet wore in his hands and drawing it over her head as a smooth calf grazed his side. In retrospect, he would have preferred her position as audience, but he knew he was not currently possessed of the patience to wait for her to undress herself. It was a testament to the shirt and bra's manufacturers that they held up under his less than careful handling of them. With her leg wrapping around his waist, practically urging him on, the underwear did not fare as well and he smothered what he suspected to be an emerging protest with his mouth.

Grasping eagerly, Briar guided him into her slick confines. A soft sound escaped past her lips as they moved against his own.

In the back of his mind where coherent thought still existed, he knew he was meant to draw this out, but those thoughts fled accordingly the moment she ground her pelvis into him. Her nails were digging trenches in his lower back, giving the impression she was as impatient with need as he was, or so he attempted to reason with himself. Even reasoning was almost beyond him. Everything was, apart from the feel of the lithe body writhing beneath him. Toned muscles flexed under his hands as he thrust into her velvet heat with steadily decreasing coordination, too lost in his baser instincts and in seeking that all-powerful release to pay any heed to where or how he touched her. His pragmatic mind had previously concluded the loss of control and awareness were detrimental side effects of such a heightened state of arousal, but he wasn't willing to decide the outcome wasn't worth the temporary risk. Especially not when she moaned his name _that_ way.

She clenched around him almost painfully and it plunged his own body into climax. John dropped his forehead onto the rumpled blanket as near overwhelming pleasure tore through his nerve endings, causing his every muscle to spasm and quiver erratically. His respiratory and heart rate were not proportional to the brief and comparatively light physical effort. This had bothered him the first time, but he now knew they'd return to within normal parameters in short order.

Briar's fingers were playing over the back of his neck. How she'd retained use of them, he couldn't comprehend, but since she wasn't complaining about the dead weight pinning her down, he didn't bother summoning the wherewithal to move. His own limbs felt inordinately heavy and his brain sluggish. She hadn't been wrong about the bed, as it turned out.


	30. Reasons Are Regrets, and Vice Versa

Eyes opening onto the stillness of the dimly lit bedroom, Briar blinked a few times. The panel by the door which controlled the environmentals read 0523 hours. She could feel the warmth of the solid presence behind her and listened, trying to ascertain whether John was still sleeping or not. It'd caught her more than a little off guard when he'd practically passed out on top of her the previous evening. He'd notably been under some mental strain in the lift earlier that day, but the semi-catatonic state directly following sex hinted at more than just mental fatigue. She'd managed to wriggle out from beneath him without rousing him too much and he'd failed to so much as twitch when she'd drawn a blanket over him.

His breathing still sounded deep and even, but when she chanced a peek over her shoulder, his alert gaze lifted to meet hers.

"How long have you been awake?" Looking forward again, she yawned and indulged in an exaggerated stretch.

A large hand slid over her rib cage, fingers spreading wide as he pulled her flush with his body. "Sixteen minutes," he answered, voice still somewhat thick in evidence of this.

That'd been far more sleep than he'd typically require.

"You smell like chemicals."

Her nose wrinkled. "The dye," she explained with a laugh. "It should wash the rest of the way out next time I shower."

John grunted tactfully in response, his thumb tracing the underside of her breast. "Was it worth it?"

"Well - you didn't let me strip you and you fell asleep on me, literally."

"But you saw me in dress whites." She could hear the amusement masked behind his flat tone.

"You looked nice."

"Nice."

"Are you fishing for compliments?"

"Nice doesn't sound worthwhile," he determined.

Briar was grinning. "For me or for you?"

"It was worthwhile for me."

"It's clear you got the better deal."

"Agreed."

She laughed again. "You would have rathered another orbital entry without a chute." She hadn't missed how uncomfortable he'd been at that ceremony, even if the other bystanders might never have guessed.

"Yes." He shifted, stretching his other arm out when she lifted her head obligingly. His thumb continued to idly sweep across her sternum as she resettled, using his bicep as a rather firm pillow.

Scars ran the length of his forearm, from wrist to the crook of his elbow, now at eye level for her. Nothing she hadn't seen before. Her own body was just as riddled with them, inflicted either directly or indirectly as a result of the augmentations; countless injections and operations, stretch marks from growth spurts her skin hadn't been able to accommodate. During training, by accident or intentionally as punishment. In the field from various weapons and opponents. Sobered by the myriad of memories, she reached up and slowly ran her fingers down over the pale raised lines.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, a question she sensed he'd wanted to pose before now.

And not one she had a good answer for. "Disappear again, if I have to." The powers that be could deliberate her existence, but they wouldn't decide her fate for her. Not this time. There were plenty of places to get lost in the outer colonies still.

John was silent for longer this time before speaking again. "What do you want to do?" His hand had stilled.

"You're not going to tell me I'm a valuable asset? Ouch." She knew the response was a cop out, but wanting things felt too much like having faith in the future and its possibilities. Dangerous and unlikely to come to fruition, what point was there?

"You don't need me to."

"No."

"Then answer the question," he insisted, betraying the weight he would place in that answer.

Briar made to roll over, but his arm tightened to prevent it. "I can't." She wasn't fond of being restrained, but allowed it. "I haven't figured it out yet." When no reply was forthcoming, she closed her eyes. "I shouldn't have made it off Reach. I should have died there. I wish all of me had - I _wished_ all of me had. Not just my identity, my… belief." At some point it'd stopped mattering. All of it. The fact that point happened to have occurred after they'd met wasn't something she knew how to admit. "I don't want to keep running, but I'm done taking orders." That much she knew.

It was probably incomprehensible to him - walking away from the UNSC. From duty. It was all he'd ever known. Which was why she wasn't surprised by his continued reservedness.

"I thought about going back a few times," she confessed, unsure why. It wasn't anything she was actively planning. Just a passing sort of morbid curiosity from time to time.

"Back?"

"Jericho VII." She couldn't even remember it, having been a mere two years old when it'd fallen. Perhaps that was where the curiosity stemmed from.

"I watched it get glassed." As with most remarks John made, on the surface it sounded toneless. A statement of fact. It was much more than just that, however. She hadn't known he'd been there, and she wasn't sure what name to give to the emotion it stirred within her.

She turned towards him, and this time he didn't stop her. His clear blue eyes met her own, and in them she read regret. "I can't remember anything. Not my home, not Damask. My parents. Nothing." All there'd ever been was the burning hatred for what had been taken from her. Except it had eventually become largely eclipsed by what the UNSC had taken, until one seemed to counteract the other, deadening the rage.

"Why go back?"

"I don't know." Maybe she never would. She couldn't claim to understand the why of it. "Sometimes I want to go back to Reach. Sometimes I wish it would implode." Part of her wanted to believe the conflicting sentiments were normal considering what she'd experienced, the other part knew 'normal' was not a descriptor easily applied to her or her situation.

He was regarding her intensely in his way. It was on the tip of her tongue to crack a joke at her own expense to dispel the sombre atmosphere - he had enough on his plate without her adding to his burdens. "I feel that way sometimes," he surprised her by saying, and she knew it wasn't in reference to Reach specifically, but of opposing sentiments. The impression it was something he'd deliberated admitting to was distinct.

Briar waited, but he failed to elaborate. Instead, he lifted his hand and pushed back the hair that had fallen into her face. She leaned up to brush her lips across his. "About Halsey." His turmoil surrounding her had been all but palpable aboard _Infinity._

He stiffened immediately, the tension suffusing his body giving away what he wouldn't with words.

"John… for what it's worth, I wish there would have been a different way to fix all of this." She wished it hadn't happened to him to start with. Any of it. Even if that meant they never would have crossed paths.

He resisted the pressure she applied to his chest at first, but gave in with reluctance and laid back.

Propping herself up on an elbow, she studied him. The guarded expression he wore pained her. "You don't have to know how to feel about it all," she pointed out, every bit the hypocrite. Reassuring him or attempting to ease her own conscience?

"You were wrong," he replied. "About Cortana. About New Phoenix. She wasn't the limiting factor."

Despite herself, Briar was surprised by his train of thought. She knew exactly to what he referred, just the same. "I wasn't there, I can't say one way or another what might have happened."

"She sacrificed herself."

Nodding slowly, she smoothed her hand over the rigid outline of a pectoral. It'd either been for the best or the worst that Aurora had been terminated along with her rampant predecessor. She had no idea which. "Maybe you should talk to Blue team about Halsey. Decide what you think is fair. Hood could probably pull some strings for you, if that's what you want."

"It isn't up to me." He sounded perplexed about why she'd suggest such a thing.

"You should all have a say."

His jaw firmed stubbornly as his gaze shifted to the ceiling.

"If you're going to be satisfied with the outcome, then let it run its course. If not, do something about it." Seeing that he wouldn't acknowledge the merit of discussing it with his teammates, she abandoned the subject and got up to take the aforementioned shower. He didn't ask where she was going, and she didn't offer. Just made her way to the lav and hit the controls, stepping beneath the instantaneously hot spray of water.

The UNSC contact Briar had been assigned when she'd made the decision to at least attempt to regain her identity had been explicit in his instructions for her _not_ to draw attention to herself until they had time to 'examine and consider how best to proceed'. She was under no illusions the odds Davids was his real name were about as good as the odds of the conundrum she represented to them being brought to a swift and satisfactory solution. They'd provided her with the means to lay low, first on Earth and then elsewhere - the elsewhere presumably not an active military base. Davids didn't ask for details of her whereabouts, which made sense. The less he knew, the easier to claim ignorance if this all went sideways. The biggest point of contention thus far had been the requirement she abandon her MJOLNIR. She'd nearly washed her hands of the process then and there. Something had stopped her. She didn't know how to describe it and wasn't sure she wanted to analyze it too closely even now, but it had led her here. Back to John.

Once she'd finished rinsing the last of the dye from her hair, she grabbed a towel and dried off. Her practical self had insisted it would be better for all involved if he'd treated her as a once-ally when they came face to face again. That other part of her, the one ruled by emotions which refused to be reasoned with, had known it would hurt her - she, who hadn't even realized there was anything left inside her to feel hurt.

John was going to remain a fixture of the UNSC, despite it all. In spite of it all, even. He didn't see any other purpose for himself. She could appreciate that. She saw no purpose either, but setting aside her grievances would be impossible. Perhaps she wasn't as adept at compartmentalizing such things. Perhaps it was a flaw in her. Perhaps a flaw in him that he _could_ set it aside. Was he simply the better, the truer Spartan? There was no real doubt of that.

He wasn't in the bedroom, neither had she expected him to be. It annoyed her that her heart rate kicked up, but she forced herself to select new clothes from the duffle bag in the corner and dress instead of searching the house for him. Apart from the noise she was making, everything was silent. She arranged the blankets on the bed with mechanical movements, knowing she wouldn't sleep there again. That now she would leave. Turning to her reflection in the mirrored panel on the wall, she frowned at the morose expression she found there and didn't bother braiding her hair, unable to stand to see herself looking so defeated. Reach had defeated her. Six years of mindless obedience as a literal nobody had defeated her. Not this.

Briar carried the duffle from the room, all her worldly possessions stowed neatly inside. They amounted to nothing. The necessities. Clothes. Weapons. Some food provisions. She dropped it by the front door, casting her gaze around the rented house for anything she might have forgotten though she knew already there wouldn't be any. Her gaze settled on the hat on the sofa. She walked over and picked it up. He wouldn't have forgotten any more than she would. Moving to the large window looking out onto the street, her grip tightened on uniform cap.

Beside the warthog, John stood with his focus fixed on a boy who'd taken up occupation of the vehicle, seated behind the wheel. The kid had obviously been caught red handed, if the wary glances he kept shooting John's way were any indication. They were talking. Whatever was being said was not putting the boy at ease, and she almost turned to go smooth things over, but she noted John point to something and paused. Reaching out, the boy flipped a switch on the console, and the M831's spotlight flashed on.

So, he was humouring the kid. Small wonders. She watched as he indicated several other buttons for the boy to test, and finally stepped back. Climbing out reluctantly, this newest worshipper stared up at John, having to crane his head all the way back to do so. He raised his spindly arm and sketched the sloppiest salute Briar had ever witnessed before dashing down the street and into one of the yards.

John returned, his eyes travelling from the bag by the door directly to her as he came inside.

"So what's the verdict, is he a carjacker or a soldier in the making?" she asked before he could say anything about her leaving.

It took him a moment to determine she wasn't being serious, she could tell. He said nothing, but looked at the cap in her hand.

She held it out.

Neither of them moved.

"Is this why you came?" He toed her duffle.

"To say goodbye?" she inferred. "I don't know." It hadn't been her intention. She'd had no intention. Just a strong desire to set eyes on him, to know he was, in fact, alright.

"Don't lie."

Briar rolled her eyes. "You're the authority on deception now?"

"I know you came here for a reason," he corrected her.

"It's called closure, John." There. She'd said it.

His voice had a hard edge to it when he next spoke. "That's what you want?"

"You tell me how this works, then." She gestured between them. "Best case scenario; I get my name back, I get to be real again. I'm _never_ going back to what I was before. But you're 'still a valuable asset'. Where does that leave us?"

Eyes narrowing at having his own words thrown back in his face, John stepped over the bag. "I don't know." He was losing patience. "But if it's a call you're making on your own, I guess it doesn't matter." Closing the space between them, he reached for the hat.

She jerked it back. "What's the alternative? You keep sneaking out here to fuck me?"

His nostrils flared indignantly, but it was clear he didn't know how to respond. He caught her other arm and once more attempted to retrieve the cap instead.

"How long, do you figure, before someone says something? A day or two? A week?" she pressed him, skillfully avoiding surrendering her prize. "Two weeks? You could have me so many times in two weeks, John. I know you want me."

"Enough, Briar," he growled in warning. His grasp had firmed considerably and he yanked her forward, fingers closing on the last item of his uniform.

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me what happens next." The stitching gave way under the stress of being pulled in two opposing directions. An apt metaphor.

John abandoned the ruined hat. In fact, he released her abruptly and glared down at her.

If she would have kissed him, he'd have taken her. There was no doubt in her mind. "We both know you're always going to be a Spartan first. Their Spartan." She crumpled the cap in her fist and threw it away. "Just go back, John."

He was pissed. There was no mistaking the cold fury in his eyes. She also read frustration there. Pain. But no determination. No perseverance. He didn't know how to make this work any more than she did.

He left without replying.


	31. On the Subject of Mercy

**A/N: Just popping in to say I realized an oversight in a previous chapter - John would not be aware of Inspector Lopis as he was already MIA at the time she and Blue team meet on Gao. So I'm going to remove that one line from the chapter and all will be rectified.**

* * *

Genesis looked the same.

Powering down the expedition craft she'd failed to turn over when she'd surrendered her armor, Briar took a moment to sit back in the pilot's seat and survey the planet's unique landscape without the threat of a rampant AI hell bent on enslaving humanity looming over her. She refused to glance back to the empty chair. This was the way things had to be. Her days under the UNSC's thumb were over. She left the cockpit and punched the panel by the loading door, stepping down once it had descended.

Outside, strange birdsong greeted her. A gentle breeze stirred the loose hair which had escaped her braid and she tucked it behind an ear, out of the way. The air smelled of flora tinged by something very foreign, but not altogether unpleasant. Something unique to the Builder world, she suspected. She wouldn't have minded scouting the planet, had circumstances been different.

"Hello! I am 038 Exorbitant Witness," the Monitor's voice preceded it as it appeared in a vortex of golden light.

Briar barely refrained from wrinkling her nose. She well remembered the effect of the translocation grids and had no desire to experience them _without_ her armor. "Yeah, I know. We've met." But she'd been encased in MJOLNIR then.

"Ah." The Forerunner construct swivelled to take in the ship. "You return alone. What has befallen your kind?"

"Cortana was destroyed," she supplied, a little taken aback the AI wasn't aware of this, though she supposed without access to the Domain, it wouldn't. "But not before causing a lot of damage with the Guardians."

"It is as I suspected, then." Exorbitant Witness spun back towards her. "Your mate was defeated?"

"No." She didn't want to get into the specifics with this thing. "But I need your help."

"If it is within my capacity to assist you, Reclaimer, I will surely do so."

"The Guardians - they're still out there. Is there some way you can... call them back?" Preferably before any of the idiots she _knew_ Brass had or would be deploying to attempt to infiltrate them were successful.

"Back?"

"Here. They'd be in better hands here, with you."

"I see." The Monitor floated a ways away, seemingly considering this. "They are a formidable resource to wield."

"We're not ready - humans, I mean. Not yet. Maybe never." The bleak remains of Sydney were still clear in her mind's eye. Millions dead. It could have been worse. Much worse.

"I will need direct access in order to alter their directives."

Briar raised a brow. "To each?"

"Through one, I should be able to gain control of the others, just as the ancilla did."

Small mercies. "Good. The sooner, the better." She passed her gaze around before turning to board the Forerunner craft again.

Maybe she'd come back. If this didn't get her killed.

* * *

"You're going to wear a hole through that."

John's head snapped up. The shots, the metallic _chinks_ of bullets being fed into magazines, the casual banter of soldiers comparing target scores all came rushing back in. The wire brush he'd been methodically feeding into the barrel of his magnum stilled in his grip.

Kelly took a seat on the bench on the other side of the cloth on which the disassembled pieces of his sidearm rested.

Linda passed by silently and entered the stall he'd been utilizing before taking his gun apart to clean, flipping the switch for a new holo-target to be displayed.

His gaze returned to said weapon.

"Fred got squirrely at the last second and wouldn't come."

His brow furrowed. This was a trap. Kelly knew he wouldn't understand the relevance of such a statement, she wanted him to ask what was going on. He didn't. If Fred had refused to be associated with whatever this was, John knew he wasn't going to like it.

Linda calmly began firing, and without even needing to see it, he knew each round was a kill shot.

Kelly's perceptive eyes were studying him. "Still no word on when we'll be returning to duty."

He set the brush aside and began to fit the magnum back together. It wasn't a process he needed to pay too much attention to, having completed it a thousand times or more in his career, but he did nonetheless.

"But that's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

The temptation to continue on in silence was real. He found Kelly's probing disconcerting, since she rarely addressed his behaviour. Certainly, Linda never did, and while she wasn't precisely partaking, her presence gave the impression she was on board with the whole thing. "I'm not bothered," he answered in as bland a voice as possible.

"You'll excuse me for calling your bluff, John."

His gut churned. Her use of his given name and not 'Chief' was purposeful. She wasn't going to let this go. They weren't going to let this go. He continued to reassemble his sidearm with building irritation. He'd come to the shooting range to distance himself from the thoughts which had been plaguing him this last week. The atmosphere was one of few on the military base he found familiarity in. The fact that was because it was filled with the sounds of weapons fire and ammunition being reloaded was not something he reflected upon.

"It might have something to do with the black eye," Kelly went on when he failed to respond. "The reason Fred was leery about joining us, that is."

John grimaced at the subtle criticism. Guilt warred with frustration. He hadn't intended to land the punch so hard - Fred should have kept his guard up. He was a seasoned Spartan, not a cadet, and if he couldn't conduct a sparring session with the proper amount of attentiveness, he had no business engaging in one. What right did he have to question John about Briar? About logistics?

"It's been a while since I've known you to take your anger out on someone."

"Is that what he said happened?" He was shoving the pieces together now, using too much force.

Kelly's brows were climbing. "No, he didn't say anything."

"That's not what happened."

"So what did?"

Slamming the magazine into the gun, John rolled the cleaning implements up in the cloth and stood from the bench.

Kelly's fingers closed around his forearm before he could turn to leave. "You've been in a mood since that ceremony - since before that even, but it's gotten worse," she informed him carefully. "You're not yourself."

Linda was watching them now, her expression unreadable. "Not here," she spoke up. "Let's go somewhere private."

He didn't want to go anywhere, but he followed her away from the range with Kelly trailing behind as though to prevent him from changing his mind and beating a hasty retreat.

Once she'd found an area which seemed suitably free of other personnel, behind a ground vehicle garage, Linda faced him again with a certain amount of expectancy.

John almost groaned. This was bad. He knew he could refuse to comply with this impromptu interrogation, but could also see doing so would sow further doubt amongst his teammates. The truth was that he knew he'd hit Fred in anger. Facing that fact in the cold light of day with two of his oldest comrades watching on wasn't an easy pill to swallow.

"Tell us about B312," Kelly prompted him with patience.

"What do you need to know?" He resigned himself to revealing what he must to put their minds at ease. It wasn't conducive to team cohesion to have them questioning his mental state.

"You trust her."

"Yes." They were already of that fact owing to her involvement in the mission on Earth. He got the sense Kelly was building up to more uncomfortable questions.

"You believe she is who she says she is?"

"Yes. Halsey confirmed her identity." He'd believed it before then, but that was irrelevant.

"You care for her." Kelly's gaze wavered for the briefest of moments, flickering to Linda, who stood stoically quiet as usual. "As more than an ally."

His jaw had tightened at the observation, but he made himself relax. He could deny it. But Fred had broached the subject previously and he knew it would create further discord for him to be anything less than honest. He trusted his teammates. He needed to trust them to understand the situation for what it was - a product of extreme circumstance. "Yes," he confessed finally.

Kelly gave a thoughtful nod. She seemed to be trying to decide how to proceed. "Something happened after you saw her last week."

"She's gone." John was aware his tone was clipped, but the ability to mitigate this eluded him entirely. He'd replayed the events in his memory countless times by now and saw no solution, nothing he could have said or done differently to secure a more desirable outcome - or what that even looked like. He looked between the two of them, feeling suddenly more spent than he had in months. "Is that all?"

"About Fred," Kelly said with obvious reluctance.

It was on the tip of his tongue to volunteer to make things right with his fellow Spartan somehow when she continued on.

"When you were MIA all those years, it took a toll on him - on all of us, but I think on him most of all when he was assigned team commander. He's never felt he was filling your boots." These types of admissions weren't made lightly by her, by any of them, and John found himself listening intently. "During some of our missions, he... grew close with one of the operatives." She paused here, and he gave a nod to indicate he took her meaning. "Well, she's been presumed dead these past two years. Except when we were sent to Reach to retrieve the package from Castle, she turned up." Another pause. "I hadn't realized how deeply her disappearance had affected him until then. I'm not even sure he truly had either."

John frowned. Fred's inquiries aboard _Infinity_ took on a new light when viewed with this knowledge in hand. He'd totally shut down the conversation, selfishly believing it to be an infraction against his own personal issues. Worse, he'd taken his frustration out on his teammate.

"We want to help, John. We're just not sure how to do that." Kelly flicked a hand. "But with all of this out in the open, about the program and… us, Spartans, it seems like now might be the best time."

"Best time for what?" he asked, not following.

"For change. For allowances… for us to be able to have what other soldiers have, if we choose." Curiously, Kelly was now looking anywhere but at him, while Linda met his gaze unflinchingly. "Spouses. Families. Hobbies."

"Hobbies?" he heard himself repeat, though that seemed the least radical of the mentioned 'allowances'. His brain was stuck on the first two, truthfully. They were foreign concepts. A spouse? A family?

"Sure. Sports or…" It was clear this was as far as her experience of hobbies went.

"Marksmanship," Linda supplied her first contribution.

That one made sense.

"Music," Kelly offered weakly.

John's brow twitched up. "Music." He thought of the song Briar had described as inspiration for a succession of punching bags. Maybe he could find it, listen to it.

"Really, I thought the spouse option would interest you more," Kelly complained of his skepticism of her list, such that it was. "Or at least… the possibility of one."

Something painful squeezed inside his chest. The notion of Briar as… his wife, felt too bizarre to contemplate. Not only had she given no indication she wanted to remain attached to him for any significant period of time, she was no less Spartan than he was. Soldiers did not marry within their own ranks. "She's gone," he reminded them, though he knew neither would have forgotten his revelation.

"She's been gone before," Linda pointed out evenly.

He shook his head. He didn't want to discuss the particulars. "How is it you expect to bring about these allowances?" Better to focus on the challenge they were proposing.

"We know a guy who has an in with the Fleet Admiral." Kelly's triumphant smirk told him he'd walked directly into this one, and there'd be no mercy shown.


	32. All Black Everything

**A/N: Liberties were taken with certain details of this chapter. That's all I'm gonna say. #Sorrynotsorry**

* * *

"You did not express a desire to extort your allies when you said you wished for my help returning the Guardians to hibernation."

Briar set the Forerunner ship down inside _Infinity_ 's hangar bay as Exuberant hovered back and forth behind her seat. "I plan to ask nicely first."

"You did not seem to believe this would work when you explained your plan."

"I like to have contingencies in place."

"Are you certain your mate cannot aid you in this?"

"I'm not involving him - and stop calling him that. We're not mates." It was clear that detail should have been corrected long ago, but there'd been larger issues at hand at the time. Through the viewscreen, she could see Palmer advancing across the deck accompanied by an armed Spartan-IV Fireteam. Leaving the craft powered up, she rose and headed out to meet them. "Commander," she acknowledged as she stepped off the ramp.

No one had their weapon trained on her, but they did have them to hand.

"Lieutenant," Palmer returned. "You've got a set."

"Something like that." Briar noted the guns jerk up suddenly. "Relax - it's with me." She glanced over his shoulder. "I told you to stay in the ship."

The Monitor had drifted out into the loading door. "I am still inside the ship."

"Stay in the cockpit."

Exuberant's photoreceptor brightened momentarily before it whirled and floated out of sight. Was the AI giving her attitude now?

"If that thing starts poking around unauthorized, it's going to get dusted," Palmer warned.

Briar almost rolled her eyes, but recalled she wasn't wearing a helmet to cover the gesture. "Copy that." She wouldn't mention the Monitor was more than capable of defending itself.

The Spartan-IV commander waved her Fireteam back and approached, voice lowered when she spoke again. "I already told the captain this was beyond stupid." Her brow was furrowed.

"Agreed."

Palmer's eyes narrowed. "You don't need me to point out this is a court martial waiting to happen for him. He's already stuck his neck out for you."

"Then he must think it worth the risk. I'm actually strapped for time, so if we could carry on?" She had a sense Palmer had the very real urge to slug her, but to her credit, the other merely glared a moment and then swung about to lead her to the lift, where the Fireteam was standing by.

They rode in silence to the deck dedicated to their contingency and Briar was escorted, not to the expansive chamber surely containing a hundred or more sets of curious augmented eyes, but down a corridor to a much smaller room. The doors slid back to reveal a raised assembly platform, and behind it the MJOLNIR Lasky had reluctantly promised her. The variant was unfamiliar and entirely unadorned apart from a simple UNSC logo on the breastplate, its flat obsidian paint job lending it an unassuming appearance.

"That doesn't look Gen2," she decided as she walked in, Palmer now trailing.

"It's not." The other woman appeared more than irritated. "It's the Gen3 prototype. They're using the Mark VII as a testbed, so Tom figured you would find the transition fairly seamless."

Briar let the slip pass without comment. "Generous of him." She began shucking her clothes since Palmer didn't seem inclined to leave. The doors had shut, leaving the Fireteam outside.

"I don't know what it is you're holding over him, but I will come for you if this-"

"Spare me. Spare yourself, for that matter. I'm not holding anything over him, but even if I was, one Spartan-IV gunning for me is a drop in the ocean," she cut in before the threat could even be made. Dragging the zipper up on the back of the bodysuit, she stepped onto the platform for the exoskeleton to be applied.

Palmer shot her a look that was pure malice as she nailed the control column to initiate the process.

"I take it you don't want it getting out that you'd go to hell and back for him for more reasons than loyalty."

The Spartan-IV commander considered shooting her in that moment. Briar could tell.

"I don't give a damn, Palmer. I'm the last person you need to debate putting a bullet in for knowing." The automated equipment secured the titanium plated pieces, whirring around her with efficiency. "But you might want to tone it down a bit if you don't want it coming to Brass's attention."

A flicker of doubt passed over Palmer's features, but she continued to glower as Briar took up the matt black helmet once the armor was affixed and came towards her. "You and the Master Chief-"

"Yeah, me and John," Briar confirmed before she could say more. "You do with that whatever the hell you want." It didn't matter, it was done. "Tell Lasky I said he's not the worst officer I've met."

* * *

For all that it nor its counterparts had so much as blinked a photosensor in the interim since Cortana's elimination, the Guardian towering before them was no less intimidating.

Briar understood all too well what it was capable of, which was why she was determined to bury the Forerunner enforcement-constructs as deep inside Genesis as possible, where they would hopefully remain out of humanity's or any other species' clutches for a while. It seemed unlikely her kind would ever prove responsible enough to control such tools of suppression, and she could well imagine what might befall should the Guardians ever come into the Jiralhanae's power. Anti-treaty Sangheili factions were already claiming ownership of the construct which had risen from their planet, while the Swords of Sanghelios remained ominously silent - either too caught up in continuing to protect the homeworld from Covenant-remnant aggressors and stifling the embers of rebellion which continued to simmer to weigh in, or more likely in response to the chaotic political landscape of humankind's colonies. Peace talks had been suspended with the Created uprising and now an air of distrust and lack of confidence seemed to permeate the once budding alliance between Sangheili and humanity.

"How long is this going to take?" she questioned Exuberant as she disengaged her thruster's, drifting the remaining distance to the Guardian and latching onto its exterior.

"That will depend largely upon whether Cortana employed any failsafes against reprogramming and, if so, their complexity." The Monitor's purple photoreceptor bathed a particular panel in light and it became translucent, revealing a maze of circuitry within.

"You failed to mention this before."

"You did not ask."

Briar sighed. They'd located one of the enforcement-constructs at the outer limits of the Inner Colonies. It had appeared to be only under guard by a patrolling frigate ancient enough that she felt comfortable assuming it was a relic which had been dug out from some long forgotten backwater base in the asshole of the galaxy. Since it had escaped being rendered useless by Cortana's attack, she supposed that made it invaluable to the UNSC, who were still struggling to get the majority of their fleet back online. Their crippling reliance on AIs had become starkly obvious in the aftermath of the Reclamation.

"Well?"

"I will need time to assess."

"Can you be more specific?" She felt like there may as well be a bullseye painted on her back, hanging off the side of the Guardian in plain sight.

"Your outer shell's stealth measures should be adequate to keep you hidden," Exuberant responded, unperturbed.

Glancing down at the MJOLNIR, she could see the pulses of energy passing through the suit, the adaptive camouflage capability she'd been somewhat tickled to discover on the trip from _Infinity_. However, the fact this was a prototype which had been in the early stages of being field tested before recent events had put that on the backburner brought with it a touch of reserve in trusting the new feature entirely. "Guess I'll find out." The frigate should be coming into visual range on its circulatory route around the Guardian any moment. The fact that chances were about fifty-fifty the old battle-axe had had its sensor suite upgraded for this post made her feel a little better about it all. She quashed the urge to press the Monitor for an estimated timeframe, which it had failed to provide thus far. The expedition-craft was cloaked and waiting nearby, worst case scenario they'd beat a hasty retreat.

The frigate sailed into view off to her left and Briar tracked its course. Well, missiles weren't being launched at her. That was a good sign. Exuberant had seemed confident it could thwart any scans in a manner which had gone totally over her head, but she'd just nodded sagely instead of admitting that. Best not to let the AI know it had too much of an edge on her.

A flash from the far side of the Guardian drew her attention, though she couldn't see what had caused it from this angle. Another UNSC vessel coming to join the frigate? They _were_ returning ships to service in a slow and painstaking fashion. Almost in answer, her HUD lit up with the harsh glare of an intense beam of plasma fire plowing into the aft of the meandering frigate. The resulting explosion was enough to make her throw an arm up to shield her eyes, even though her visor auto-tinted in response.

"Shit."

The _CCS_ -class battlecruiser responsible emerged from behind the Guardian, the glow from its energy projector still fading after delivering the devastating attack.

The section of the frigate which remained intact was free-floating, a trail of debris in its wake, all running lights gone dark.

"Tell me you're nearly done," she prompted Exuberant.

"It would be a false assertion."

Briar cursed again. "We don't have much longer." The ex-Covenent ship would possess much more sophisticated sensor arrays than the dilapidated frigate had. She watched pensively as it recharged its weapon and dispatched the other half of the UNSC vessel, feeling a chill run down her spine at the needless loss of life. Peace times, indeed. Tell that to the men and women who wouldn't be returning to their families.

Two phantoms peeled away from the battlecruiser, closing in on the Guardian with speed.

"Prepare for company." The nature of said company, she still wasn't certain of. It seemed unlikely the Sangheili rebels had gotten their hands on a ship of that caliber - unless the Swords had failed to fully terminate 'Mdama's fleet. It was a possibility, but the more likely explanation seemed to be the Jiralhanae. They'd probably been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. She could guess what they wanted with the Guardian. "I'm going to buy you some time - use it well." Pushing off from the protrusion she'd been hold onto, she made her way around the exterior of the stationary enforcement-construct, finding hand and foot holds without difficulty thanks to its many separate pieces.

Once she judged she'd put enough distance between herself and Exuberant, she accessed the integrated weapons system on her HUD. If it wasn't for the fact the Gen3 prototype was utilizing the Mark VII as its platform, she would no doubt have found it much more difficult to accustom herself to. But she'd spent years in Mark VII and enough similarities remained between it and the new OS for her to find it fairly intuitive. Lining up the foremost phantom in the projected crosshairs, she launched the two Odin-classed shoulder-integrated air-defense missiles the MJOLNIR had come equipped with. The two streaked away, looping high before their trajectory brought them hurtling down into the alien dropship. It blew apart in spectacular fashion, flinging shrapnel into the path of its counterpart. Lasky hadn't held out on her.

Of course, this had given her position away, and Briar leapt away from incoming plasma fire from the second phantom. She stuck close to the Guardian, dodging blasts, using her thrusters when necessary as the dropship swept in closer.

As she'd suspected, six Brutes were disgorged from the craft when it was within range. They clambered over the surface of the looming construct, their size making this a more cumbersome process than it was proving for their enemy.

Briar reached back and grasped the DMR stowed on her back as the phantom continued to fire on her. Twisting mid-jump, she put two rounds into the faceplate of her nearest pursuer. Plasma bolts from the Jiralhanaes' Type-25 rifles splashed off her shields. The one she had hit had detached from the Guardian and was writhing around in an attempt to cover the holes she'd punched in his gear. She lunged into the midst of the five remaining, knocking another free and unloading three shots into the back of a second. She captured his plasma rifle as he swung back and drove the butt of the DMR into his helmet, smashing the visor. Letting go of her weapon, she grabbed him by the arm, used him to block more incoming fire from his comrades, and hefted him off into space.

The dropship had been forced to leave off firing or risk hitting its own, so instead of neutralizing them and blowing her inadvertent advantage, she crouched and shoved off from the Guardian, snatching up her floating DMR as she arrowed towards the phantom. The gunner must have decided his pals weren't worth it, as its plasma cannons flared back to life with alacrity.

Briar engaged her thrusters, rolling just wide of the incoming fire.

The pilot had obviously discerned his error in getting so close as the craft began to bank, but not fast enough.

Bringing the DMR up, she concentrated her remaining rounds on the pivotal fins which directed the thrust from the rear of the phantom. One flew free, riddled by her bullets, and the dropship lurched drunkenly as a result.

"I have successfully reprogrammed the Guardian to return to Genesis," Exuberant announced over the comms.

"I'd get back to the ship if I were you," Briar advised as she closed in on the listing phantom. The cannons hurled one last barrage, and she twisted, her HUD blaring a warning about depleted shields as the plasma crackled by a little close for comfort. She hit the port bay door hard, plowing through into the interior with a minor lack of grace.

The gunner surged from his station and made it three steps before being sucked out into space. Since the cockpit was sealed and she had an idea that back-up was likely on the way, she settled for driving her fist through the armament controls a few times, then bailed.

A quick check of her six revealed a dozen seraphs and banshees swarming in.

Ahead, the Guardian was already disappearing into a slipspace rupture.

"Coming in hot, you might want to prepare that thing to depart in a hurry."

"I have already done so, but you may wish to reconsider leading so many foes directly to your unarmed escape vessel in the future."

"Good point, I'll think about it."


	33. Author Note

**Hello all! This is not an actual chapter, I apologize, but there were some things I felt needed addressing.**

**It has been brought to my attention Exuberant Witness' character was not accurate in the latest chapter, and I agree. I was focused on the Gen3 MJOLNIR's capabilities and not making it too OP, but also a considerable upgrade on previous iterations (come on, Sangheili been using that active camo for years and now that we're allies(ish?) I think it's about time it was adapted to the Spartans. Sharing is caring, Thel). I may go back and tweak Exuberant's dialogue at some point, but I have to be honest when I say that getting this story clued up is of far greater importance to me.**

**Second thing that's been mentioned is how Briar and John's relationship developed suddenly, or so it seemed. And from a reader's perspective, I understand why it seems that way. All along, I admit I was avoiding writing chapters from John's POV, because I was legit terrified of fucking it up. Because of this, you only saw Briar's thoughts and feelings, which did hint at her growing attachment to John, but left you with only half the picture obviously. I am sorry about that. I did become comfortable with John's POV, but too late I feel. I wish I could say I will go back and add chapters from John's POV In between some of the earlier stuff, to give a more complete picture of how things developed, but… the end is in sight. It's probably not gonna happen.**

**Finally, there are (I think?) 4-5 chapters remaining. I haven't written them yet, I've outlined some. These will take me some time, as I want to ensure they're written well. That and the fact the holidays are upon us here in Canada means you're going to need to be patient with me. I will conclude this story, I am determined. I've thoroughly enjoyed learning and researching Halo lore and hopefully in the new year I'll get around to reading the novels.**

**I appreciate all of your feedback and support. Truly. Stay safe everyone!**


	34. Even If the Sky Does Fall

**Sorry for the wait everyone, I hope to get back to a more regular update schedule now that the holidays have concluded. That being said, I will be taking my time with these next several chapters, as they are the culmination of a few months of effort and I want them to do justice to what the story has been leading up to. Inspiration has been lagging somewhat and I don't write my best when I'm forcing myself, so I'm trying to plan very carefully how everything will be brought to completion. I hope not to disappoint anyone (myself included) since some chapters have been a struggle for me and I still cringe looking back on them. I want to be satisfied with how this all ends.**

**Just one other note - someone recently inquired about a chapter title (Love Death Immortality) being in reference to The Glitch Mob, and yes it is. In fact, many chapter titles reference songs and artists, and most often those songs or artists served as inspiration for those chapters. Music is a huge influence on my writing, on my life in general. Maybe I'll put together a master list for which chapters reference which songs or artists specifically at some point.**

**Thank you for your continued support and feedback and I urge those who haven't yet reviewed to please do so, as it does give me motivation to continue (might as well admit it, is what it is). Those who leave feedback regularly - you are amazing and I thoroughly appreciate your comments.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Lowering himself into the metal chair placed before the desk which took up half the floor space of the relatively small room, John told himself this was purely coincidental. He stared at the holo-platform mounted on the empty desk top which displayed the UNSC logo floating above it. He hadn't yet had time to fully digest what Linda and Kelly were proposing, nevermind act on it, so the orders he'd received that morning to proceed to the secure facility for an incoming comm couldn't possibly be related.

Before he had time to analyze it further, the logo vanished, replaced instead by Lasky's figure from the waist up. "Chief," he greeted, his expression seeming to reflect a similar sense of apprehension about what was to follow.

"Sir."

"I guess we're waiting on the Fleet Admiral."

John hadn't been informed _who_ the communication would involve and he processed this new information. Perhaps this meeting would entail a reassignment to active duty?

"You're looking better than when I last saw you," Lasky observed after clearing his throat.

"I'm fully recovered." The more he repeated the lie, the easier it became. The incessant pressure in his temples was tolerable at the moment, though the light projected by the holo-platform was causing him some discomfort.

A second image joined Lasky's. "Master Chief. Captain Lasky," Hood said, glancing up from a tablet he held, his weathered features smoothing somewhat. "You might as well read the Chief in on the latest."

Lasky gave a nod. "At approximately 2300 hours yesterday, a Jiralhanae battlecruiser engaged and destroyed the UNSC frigate, _Daedalus_ , which was patrolling one of the Guardians at the boundary between the Inner and Outer Colonies. They attempted to access the Guardian, we believe with the intent to abscond with it, but were met by Spartan-B312. She held them off long enough for the Guardian to escape into the Slipstream. At the same time, all other Guardians being monitored also fled. At 0400, a satellite _Infinity_ had previously launched in the Nomos system detected multiple slipspace ruptures above the planet now known to us as Genesis. Seems like that's where the Guardians have been transported."

John had listened passively to all this, not allowing mention of Briar to alter his respiratory rate or facial expression, even if the report caught him on his back foot. His gaze flickered from Lasky to Hood. The fact she had been there and intercepted their enemies did not come across as though it had been unexpected by either, which he wasn't certain what to make of.

"You can no doubt imagine if we detected it, so did they." The Fleet Admiral was not wrong to assume as much. The Covenant had always possessed more advanced scanner capabilities than humans. "Knowing what we now do, we can under no circumstances allow those Guardians to fall under alien control. Our best and brightest might not have been able to crack the security measures that AI left in place, but I'm not willing to lay odds those bastards won't find a way around it." Here Hood paused. "Make no mistake, son, this is _not_ an order."

"Sir?" John questioned, mental preparations for returning to action slamming to an abrupt halt.

"I'm offering this mission to Blue team, Master Chief. Out of respect. I know it's all been a lot of veneer and shine, and frankly I hate the farce, the cameras - it's a damned travesty, the whole thing. But I stand by my commitment to do right by you, by all the Spartans. The assignment is yours, if you want it. If you don't, say the word. You've more than earned the right to sit this one out, and I won't think any the less of you. The UNSC wouldn't think any the less of you, son."

The notion he should consult with his teammates was fleeting, but ultimately John knew he didn't need to ask to know what their answer would be. "Blue team will take the mission, Sir."

* * *

Lowering herself down, Briar did her best not to imagine what a bad moment it would be for her adaptive camouflage to malfunction, with her dangling down in plain view of the dozens of Jiralhanae, Kig-Yar, and Unggoy boarding phantoms which were about to deploy them onto Genesis's surface. She adjusted her grip on the smooth nanolaminate plating of the battlecruiser and watched through the energy barrier as one of the dropships lifted off the uppermost hangar deck. Timing was going to be everything if she wanted to avoid detection.

The phantom rose and banked towards the translucent barrier. The moment its fuselage passed through, she swung her legs back and launched herself inwards, clearing the energy field at the same time the craft exited. Rolling to cut down on noise from impact with the deck, she came back up onto her feet and hustled to the perimeter of the bay. She skirted equipment and a few clueless Grunts, making her way to the blast doors and pausing to wait for an opportunity to pass through when a Jackal entered.

The corridor outside the bustling hangars was no less busy, but the _CCS_ -class battlecruiser had been fortuitously designed with the cargo hold in close proximity for easy transfer of supplies and weapons to outbound crafts, so she didn't have to go far. The odds of reaching her destination without being discovered were nevertheless slim, and although she managed to slip past another pair of Kig-Yar and the Jiralhanae behind them, a group of dithering Unggoy blocked the passage ahead entirely.

With a sigh, Briar brandished the plasma repeater she'd scrounged on Genesis and advanced on the five unsuspecting aliens. She broke into a sprint and leapt over their comparatively small figures, threw her shoulder into the Skirmisher approaching from the opposite direction and sprayed the two Brutes lumbering behind him with plasma fire. None had shielding engaged. The Skirmisher crunched back into the wall and slid to the floor, the Brutes bellowed in alarmed pain but didn't get the chance to bring their weapons to bear before she launched herself into them, bowling one over into the other. The Kig-Yar and Brute at the other end of the corridor were closing in as the Unggoy scattered. Firing off another barrage at close range into the tumbled Brutes, she punched one's grasping paws away and threw herself towards the opening cargo doors. Two more Jiralhanae burst out, followed by a troop of armed Grunts, all of whom appeared supremely puzzled by the seemingly enemy-free corridor and their injured cohorts. Until she plowed into them, that was. Several of the startled Unggoy started shooting, hitting each other more often than not in the confusion, while her shields deflected the bolts which actually found her armor. One of the Brutes roared as he was struck by the friendly fire and swatted the nearest Grunt aside, giving her the opening required to jam her combat knife into his chin and snatch the belt of grenades he wore. His reactive thrashing caught her full on in the breast plate, knocking her back into his comrade, who was quicker on the uptake than any of the others had been. A meaty set of arms closed around her, squeezing. The plasma repeater was trapped at her side, but she hit the trigger regardless, banking on catching her captor unawares or searing his feet. The burst of plasma careened off the deck and the Brute staggered, smashing her up against the wall, where she was able to get her boots up and kick back, shoving them violently into the opposite wall. This loosened the alien's hold enough that she could jerk her elbow into his gut and break free, slicing her knife across his snarling jaws as she spun away.

Without pausing, she charged into the cargo hold with the belt dangling from her arm and scanned the vast space for what she needed as a few stray plasma bolts followed her in. Those inside were on alert, but like her, they were aware the contents of some of the metal crates were less than innocuous and didn't dare to indiscriminately unload their weapons without a visible target. Jogging past stockpiles of supplies, she ignored the agitated shouting and the red emergency lighting which flashed on, warning of her presence. It wouldn't be long before the hold was crawling with reinforcements, so she stalked the aisles purposefully until she came to the one she wanted. Six Jiralhanae and three Kig-Yar already surrounded the neatly stacked munitions, the diminished volume of crates indicating most had already likely been transported to the dropships and other vehicles already infiltrating the planet below. Stowing her knife, she hastily depressed the detonators on all four of the plasma grenades and then hurled the belt high up onto the remaining crates at the same time she tore into the aliens guarding them with plasma fire from the repeater.

A lift at the far end of the room was opening, a half dozen more Brutes spilling out, but Briar retreated the way she had come, knowing her time was limited even if the lift could deposit her directly into the hangar bays. She pounded past Jiralhanae and Unggoy in the corridor, booting the latter out of her way and dodging the former, using her weapon only when necessary as she swiftly traversed the distance to the blast doors. Behind her, the first explosion sounded, followed immediately by several more in growing intensity, sending tremors through the deck beneath her feet.

The hangar was in chaos. Reverberations rocked the battlecruiser. Phantoms, seraphs, and banshees were still deploying as personnel frantically scrambled to board them. Plasma streaked into her shields from behind as she ran for the energy barrier, which flickered as power stuttered for a moment.

"Reclaimer, many oppositional forces are being deposited," Exuberant's anxious voice echoed over her comms.

"Copy that." In retrospect, bringing the Monitor along to pilot the expedition craft might have been a better idea than leaving it below to contend with infiltrating forces. "I'm on my way, but you're going to need to neutralize as many as you can until I get down there."

"Oh dear - I will endeavour to do so!"

Dismissing the warning about shield integrity, Briar lunged after one of the fleeing banshees, catching a rear fin as the craft was propelled through the failing energy barrier by the concussive wave from the imploding battlecruiser. A large piece of debris blown from the fracturing vessel struck the spinning type-27, knocking her loose and sending her sprawling through the gravity-less vacuum. Engaging her thrusters to steady her descent, she angled towards Genesis and brought the plasma repeater up, peppering any insertion pods which she was able to get close enough to. The crippled battlecruiser floated above as she broke atmosphere, still relatively whole but surrounded by a cloud of debris and with a gaping rent where the cargo hold had once been. Hopefully it would be enough to distract the crew, or ideally convince them to retreat.

A blast from a pursuing seraph crackled past close enough to throw up warnings on her HUD just as she was preparing to deploy her drag chute for re-entry. Twisting away from more weapons fire with a burst from her thrusters, she searched for cover as the friction from passing through Genesis's atmosphere at such velocity superheated her MJOLNIR, the external temperature steadily climbing while the prompt to deploy her chute continued to blink urgently. If she ejected the chute with the seraph still in pursuit, she'd be an easy target. On the other hand, she knew all too well the consequences of not utilizing the chute appropriately. And at this altitude and acceleration, even attempting to return fire - a fruitless endeavour in and of itself since the seraph would be shielded - would have likely sent her into a spin she wouldn't be able to recover from in time to deploy the drag chute. Tucking her arms in tight, she instead arrowed down, gaining yet more speed as bleating alarms sounded over her internal speakers. Maneuvering was dicey at such extreme velocity, but she knew the seraph would struggle breaking atmosphere as well, and that she was a relatively small target. Another blast from its plasma cannon streaked by. Her altitude was drastically dropping, approaching the limits of the range the chute had been tested to be effective within. Something tracked across her HUD, the Constructor almost too fast to identify as it shot upwards past her, followed by three more in rapid succession. Confused, but not in a rush to meet her end as a splat on Genesis's surface, she shot her drag chute and braced herself against the brutal jarring forces of being simultaneously hauled in two opposing directions. As the chute began to slow her descent she was able to tilt her head enough to see that the Constructors had impacted the seraph, destroying themselves and the alien craft. She noted in surprise others on similar kamikaze runs into encroaching ships and insertion pods.

Maybe the Monitor wasn't completely useless.

All around her, the sky was filled with the flashes of plasma fire, whines of engines, and crashes of the Forerunner constructs hurtling up from the planet to collide with phantoms toting ghosts and wraiths, banshees, seraphs, and insertion pods alike. Fragments of damaged and destroyed crafts careened through plumes of black smoke like shrapnel, reducing visibility and making the ground difficult to see. Making everything difficult to see.

"Reclaimer, are you operational?"

"Thanks to you."

"Very good news – your support would be appreciated. I have few Constructors left at my disposal and this is _not_ their intended use!"

Briar snorted at how distressed Exuberant sounded by this point. "I'm incoming."


	35. Even If They Take it All

Crew moved about the hangar, completing checks and inspections, calling instructions and instrumentation readings back and forth over the various comm channels set aside for such purposes in the noisy environment. _Infinity_ would be emerging from the Slipstream in approximately five minutes and as such, offensive crafts and dropships were being prepped for deployment pending assessment of the situation on Genesis. It'd been decided the Gateway to the Domain would be their intended target. It was how Cortana had called the Guardians to her to start with and needed to be secured, especially since they couldn't be certain Genesis's Monitor hadn't repaired it in the months since they'd taken a stand against her there. Whether or not the Banished, as their newest adversaries evidently referred to themselves, were aware of its existence remained unknown.

John was standing by as the G79H-TC which would carry Blue team down to the surface if necessary was given a final once over. Fred, Kelly, and Linda gathered behind him, checking their gear with calm familiarity. They all looked when two sets of lift doors slid open, depositing not one, but two Spartan-IV Fireteams into the bay. Commander Palmer strode towards them as the others headed for neighbouring pelicans.

"The Captain wants us on standby to deploy as needed," she explained. "We should be coming out of slipspace any second now."

"Understood," John replied.

Palmer hesitated. "I've been informed this Op is yours to run as you see fit, Sir. We'll await your orders." She turned to rejoin her teammates, but he spoke up before he could think better of it. The problem was that he'd had too long to ponder already. He wanted answers.

"What do you know about B312's involvement in this, Commander?" The Spartan-IV's weren't close enough to overhear, but Blue team was, and he saw Kelly's helmet turn slightly from the corner of his eye. It was unlike him to request information which hadn't been provided by his superiors willingly, but it was relevant to the mission and he felt justified in asking. It seemed Briar was responsible for the Guardians return to the Forerunner Builder world, and he didn't see how such a feat would have been possible for her without aid - whether official or otherwise.

"What do I know? Nothing more than you."

The qualifying statement had his brows drawing down. "Off the record."

Palmer shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly making a judgement call. She waved a hand. "She showed up and Lasky gave her the prototype Gen 3 MJOLNIR we were assigned to field test and sent her on her way. They never spoke."

"Did you?"

"Briefly. I thought… she might be blackmailing the Captain somehow, but in light of all this, I'd say it's a safer bet someone was pulling strings from higher up the food chain. It's to our benefit the Banished didn't get ahold of that Guardian. Our techs have been trying to figure out a way to hack into them for months now, unsuccessfully. She brought that Forerunner AI and managed it in fifteen minutes."

He needed time to digest this, but Roland's voice came over the comms to inform them they were exiting slipspace and to be prepared to deploy.

Palmer went to the pelican her Fireteam was riding down in.

John did the same.

"What do you make of it?" Kelly inquired inside the relative quiet of the dropship as she, Fred, and Linda all took seats.

He shook his head. "I don't know. She said she was done with all this." That had been his interpretation of matters, at least. He understood why, even if he couldn't relate entirely. He'd seen and been tarnished by the corruption she'd been warning him of all along, now exposed to the bright light of day for all to criticize. He knew what had been done to him and to all Spartan-IIs had been wrong. But that did not negate the successes, the triumphs, the lives which had been saved - which could still be saved, as evidenced by their current predicament. He didn't know what had caused Briar to become entangled with the Guardians, but he intended to find out if Palmer's assumptions held any merit.

The others were sharing looks. It was Fred who spoke up. "Does it change anything for us?"

"No." He rested his MA5K across his lap as he sat down. "I owe you an apology." It wasn't one of his finer moments, waiting until now to bring it up, but his mind had been preoccupied with preparations and with puzzling out what Briar's MO might be.

Kelly and Linda remained respectfully silent.

For his part, Fred merely gave a slow nod of acceptance.

Exchanges of such a nature were not commonplace. Calls were made during missions, some better than others. Mistakes happened. No one ever apologized. But this was different, and all four knew it. John had needed to acknowledge he'd been in the wrong. Even if it would have changed nothing about the group dynamic in battle, he'd treated his teammate unfairly and Fred had deserved to have that addressed.

"Spartans, the situation planetside as far as initial scans can tell us is as follows," Roland cut in over the comm channel once more. "The battlecruiser which destroyed our frigate and tried to tamper with the Guardian has taken damage and does not appear to be sound. Contending with it shouldn't prove much trouble for us. That's the good news. Bad news is it looks to have deployed numerous ground forces already as well as exospheric and atmospheric support craft. Genesis is crawling with enemies."

"The Captain wants us down there?" Palmer questioned.

"Fireteams Majestic and Crimson are to accompany Blue team to pro- Woah!"

"Not very confidence inspiring," one of the Spartan-IV's remarked at the unexpected exclamation.

"We've got company up here - a _CAS_ -class assault carrier is exiting slipspace. All hands brace for impact!"

"Roland! What's our mission status?" Palmer shouted over the channel.

"Green light! Go, go, go!"

The pelican lurched up from the deck abruptly, jostling John and the others as it banked towards the launch doors.

"Hold tight back there," one of the pilots warned as they swung down sharply.

Planting his feet, John reached back to grip the straps lining the interior for securing cargo. The dropship rolled hard onto its side, the deck humming as the thrusters were throttled fully open. " _Infinity_ , this is Sierra-117 requesting a sitrep."

"Don't hold your breath on an update, Chief," the same Spartan-IV from before responded. "They just got smoked. Gonna be a while shaking that one off."

"That's our ride home, asshat," someone else chimed in.

"Shut your mouths," Palmer's tense reply cut short the exchange. "Safe to assume we're on our own for the moment, Master Chief. I'll keep trying _Infinity_."

"Copy that."

"Prepare for atmospheric entry, I'm counting four enemy craft closing in on us," the pilot advised. "Make that five. Damn, it's hairy down there."

A shudder coursed through the pelican as the gunner opened fire and they were simultaneously buffeted by the gaseous layers of Genesis's atmosphere. The metal bulkheads groaned as they twisted while rocketing downwards and the hissing of the plating protecting the fuselage being rapidly heated filled the hold.

"We're coming in hot, ETA to infil- shit!"

"Report," John prompted automatically at the expletive.

"Tango-two was hit, Sir. They're going down."

"Fireteam Majestic," Palmer supplied. "We need to follow them down and provide cover fire. At this altitude, they have a good chance of walking away from it."

The dropship jerked into another roll and no one bothered to specify that while those in MJOLNIR stood a chance, the crew likely didn't. "Understood. Regroup and comm with a headcount when you're clear. Blue team will continue to the target coordinates."

"That's not what I- we should stick together."

"Negative. Handle your wounded and comm for rendezvous coordinates. Sierra-117 out." They didn't have time to take unnecessary delays. Fireteam Crimson would have to bail out their own while Blue team secured the Gateway. Only the slim chance the enemy was oblivious to its existence and function seemed to be in their favour, since numbers certainly weren't. And with _Infinity_ tied up with an opposing vessel of equal or greater might, that wasn't likely to change soon.

* * *

"How are we looking?"

"We remain _vastly_ outnumbered," Exuberant responded as it swept along over her right shoulder as Briar slogged through dense foliage, keeping the Brutes pursuing her close enough behind that they didn't lose interest. "And I fear there are now too few Constructors left to adequately maintain the planet's integrity."

"I'm not sure there's going to be much left to maintain when all's said and done here." Breaking left, she circled back around to catch her opponents unawares. "But on a brighter note, you've been kicking ass." The Monitor had proven itself a better combat ally than she'd expected.

"Genesis is my responsibility. I will do what is necessary, even if violence is not one of my base directives." Exuberant's photoreceptor swivelled as it flew on towards the Gateway as they'd agreed, continuing over the comms channel. "I hope this does not indicate I am suffering from the beginning stages of rampancy… Oh dear."

"One crisis at a time," Briar muttered. She lobbed a spike grenade she'd lifted from a fallen adversary into the midst of the three closest Jiralhanae and swung up her purloined T-25 C, firing on their trailing compatriots as the blast kicked up dirt and the _thwack_ of the grenade's projectiles embedding themselves in anything and everything in the vicinity filled the air. Pivoting, she ran on without waiting to confirm how many she'd downed.

It didn't matter. There were more. There were many, many more. And she had to somehow hold them off long enough for Exuberant to reach the Gateway and discover a way to terminate the Guardians harbored within Genesis. The Monitor hadn't seemed confident elimination protocols would have been installed in the enforcer-constructs.

Not for the first time she questioned the wisdom of having instrumented this entire ordeal. Would it be worth it if she never made it off the damn planet? Hood's assurance of a clean slate, of having her identity, her name restored to her seemed paltry promises when weighed against the potential cost. What good was a name if she was dead? Would they add her callsign to the tribute to Noble team then? Was acknowledgement - was recognition something to give her life for?

A formation of banshees scream past overhead, ominously heading in the direction of the Gateway, and Briar redoubled her pace despite having already covered in excess of twenty-five klicks. The descent had been a shit show, her drag chute having quickly become riddled with holes when she'd come within range of enemy ground fire and her shields entirely depleted. She'd fought tooth and nail to make it into the cover of the forest, the matte black Gen 3 now sporting an impressive variety of dings and scrapes which would have placed it in competition with John's battered Mark VI.

He wasn't going to know what had happened to her unless Hood made good on his word - but why would he, who would there be to hold him to account once she was gone? Lasky still possessed the full account of her black-ops, but he'd already expressed reservations about sharing it. If she didn't survive, John was going to believe she'd left and that was the end of it. It wasn't any different than what she'd originally intended. He would continue to serve, to be what they all expected him to be - a Spartan. He didn't know how to be anything else, how to want to be anything else. Was it just hubris that she'd ever hoped to change things for him when it'd never been her place to do so? Was she any different for wanting more for him, for him to be more than what he was?

The banshees were coming back around. They'd picked up on her despite the canopy.

She ducked her head and pushed her legs to pump faster, weaving through the alien flora, gunning for the structure she knew was dead ahead at the edge of the forest. It was where the first of the switches required to engage the Gateway was located and should provide protection from the inbound crafts if she could reach it in time.

Two Grunts stumbled into her path twenty metres on, startled and scrambling to train their weapons on their swiftly closing target. Plasma blasts ricocheted off her scarcely replenished shields and she returned fire blindly with the spiker, never slowing her pace. The first Unggoy was blown from its feet by the tungsten alloy projectile it was struck with, and the second she charged mercilessly.

Thirty five metres to the clearing.

The lead banshees opened up with their fuel rod cannons, shells slamming down with enough force to jolt the ground beneath her pounding feet and engulfing the way ahead in a sickly green haze as they obliterated everything they contacted.

Briar veered sharply as the subsequent crafts laid down further ordnance, her saving grace that the heavy vapours from those same explosions provided extra cover. She plowed through the active bombardment, pelted by the shrapnel thrown up by the impacts as her HUD registered warning after warning. Bursting clear of the fire, she dove into the shelter of the Forerunner structure and sucked oxygen into her burning lungs.

The banshees would continue strafing passes, hoping to pin her down long enough for ground forces to hem her in. She had to get to the Gateway, but she couldn't lead them there, not while Exuberant was still working on a solution. She checked the spiker's magazine. Nine rounds remaining. Her combat knife and sidearm. That was surely enough to take on the better part of a _CCS_ -class battlecruiser's full complement, right?

Taking a few more measured breaths, she sprinted back into the open. Approximately three klicks to the next structure, no real cover in sight, and she was alone again on a planet swarming with enemies.

Should've kissed John that one last time.


	36. And When All the Fires Burn

"Status planetside."

"Long range comm links are still spotty, Captain. We're working on it."

Lasky braced a hand against the holo-table upon which Roland's avatar stood as the deck jolted beneath his feet. Emergency lighting cast an ominous red glow over the bridge and its occupants, most of whom were busy relaying messages and reports between the ten _Strident_ -class heavy frigates and numerous F41-E broadswords and GA-TL1 longswords currently engaged with the enemy. "Work _faster_."

With the confusion of the arrival of the _Enduring Conviction_ the deployed pelicans had been lost track of, an unforgivable oversight Lasky was still striving to correct. Emergency transponders on two of the dropships - those carrying Fireteams Majestic and Crimson - had been detected, indicating they'd either been shot down or crashed. The third, carrying Blue team, was still tracking towards the target according to the latest scans. He knew, dependent upon the severity of the impact, their MJOLNIR could have saved the Spartan-IVs. He also knew they were stranded down there if that was the case. Of the twelve broadswords and four longswords which had been their escort, none had survived, speaking to the sheer number of adversarial crafts prowling the planet's airspace.

"Sir, we've lost Sub-Vessels 3 and 8, and 7 is reporting heavy damage and eminent power failure," someone spoke above the cacophony of ongoing chatter.

"Sub-Vessel 7 is to fall back to us. Get that assault carrier in our sights and hit them with another MAC round."

"Sir, Charlie and Delta levels are now venting atmosphere."

"Seal all affected decks, no one goes up or down without approval." He looked to the ship's AI. "How bad is it?"

Roland brought up a diagram of the supercarrier, the areas of damage illuminated. "It's not good, Captain. Both of our flank mounted Series-8's are inoperable and our shielding capabilities have been diminished significantly."

"Lima squadron destroyed, Kilo squadron down to two."

"Sub-Vessel 7 is being harried by ticks, Sir. They're not going to make it and are requesting permission to scuttle."

"Reroute support craft to cover their retreat."

"Captain.. who should I send?"

Dozens of sets of apprehensive eyes latched onto him, Lasky could feel them. He stared at the projected diagram as the deck rocked again and another portion lit to indicate the newly sustained damage. "Tell Sub-Vessel 7 to proceed." He flicked the diagram aside, enlarging the map which showed Blue team's pelican's progress. "And get ground support planetside. Now."

* * *

"Inbound aircraft due west."

John turned in the direction of Linda's warning. "How many?" He could just make out the approaching formation.

"I count eight."

"Copy that." He looked towards where Fred and Kelly had taken up positions to his right, setting a defensive perimeter along the most direct route to the Gateway, which towered behind them in the distance.

"Guess we're on our own." Kelly checked her magazine one final time and raised her M45 shotgun.

"Same old," Fred replied, unconcerned.

"They're targeting someone," Linda remarked as the green plumes from the fuel rods wafted into view followed closely by the distant boom of artillery. "Black MJOLNIR, on foot."

John's gut clenched. "Do you have a shot?"

"Negative, they're not in range yet."

The banshees peeled away, having overshot their quarry by this point. They circled back around, lining up for another pass as the armor-clad figure furiously racing towards Blue team's position came into view.

"Linda."

"Two hundred more metres and I'll have them."

It would be too late. The certainty of it, and that there was nothing he could do to change that - the futility of having arrived to find the Gateway undiscovered, but unable to do anything but watch as the alien crafts ran her into the ground - it weighed down on him with the crushing force of a gravity hammer.

Kelly pelted past suddenly, _Oathsworn_ stowed and Fred's Spartan Laser to hand. "Cover me when you're able."

"You know it," Linda answered calmly.

"What are you doing?" John demanded, starting after his teammate, but restrained by Fred's grip on his shoulder.

"Evening the odds." Clutching the hulking M6 close, Kelly hurtled towards the incoming ships, covering ground with speed which belied the payload she was carting. Long before the effective distance for accuracy was reached, she hefted the laser up onto her shoulder, still jogging at a fast clip, and opened fire on the banshees. The beam swung wildly owing to the weapon being jostled by her gait, but it was enough to draw the attention of the lead ships. Three left off lining up to shell Briar further and tore towards Kelly instead. She skidded to a halt, repositioned the M6, and fired again. This time the laser ripped into the foremost craft, blowing it wide open and taking out one of its trailing counterparts as the wreckage slammed into the ground. The third banked up sharply, reconsidering its target, but not before a round from Linda's sniper rifle found a place in the pilot's skull. It spun and rolled into a nosedive, impacting at velocity in a fiery spray of debris.

Kelly tore off again without pause, but the remaining banshees had already begun raining ordnance down upon their prey again. The green haze of the exploding fuel rods and clouds of dirt they churned up impeded sight of Briar. One moment she was there, visibly lagging as she hurled herself onwards, and the next she was gone. The M6 found another target, blasting into a third craft. Having seen enough, the last four pulled up, abandoning the chase and turning back to no doubt return with reinforcements.

John ran. Smoke choked the way ahead as he and Fred closed in, but he refused to slow down.

Kelly's voice came over the too silent comms. "I've got eyes on her. She's down."

"You're all clear," Linda supplied from her perch atop the structure supporting the Gateway.

Words would not leave his mouth, half formed thoughts jumbling together uselessly as he plowed onwards despite the low visibility. Kelly's form appeared first, standing guard over the prone black MJOLNIR lying amidst the charred craters the fuel rod cannons had created.

She turned back when she heard him and Fred. "She's alright, John. Just winded."

It didn't seem possible. Scores and dents marred the armor, a film of dirt coating it from the sediment floating through the air. He lowered himself down to one knee, but couldn't locate any obvious signs of injury or penetration. And then her arm flailed. He seized it, dragging her into a sitting position, staring into the golden tinted visor. Seated, he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest plate and shoulders, and the vice which had been squeezing his ribcage without relent since Linda had spoken the sentence 'black MJOLNIR, on foot' eased ever so slightly.

Her free hand came up, index and middle fingers jerkily swiping across her faceplate. The vice loosened a little more.

John shifted and looped her arm around his helmet. He stood slowly, hoisting her up at his side and turning to make the trek back to the Gateway. She gasped a thanks at Kelly as they passed, leading him to wonder just how long she'd been on the move. Winded was putting it lightly if the way she stumbled the first few steps before getting her feet beneath her was any indication. Kelly fell in behind them and Fred led the way, having reclaimed his M6.

By the time they reached their previous perimeter, Briar was walking without much support, and retracted her arm when John released it. She pulled her helmet off, letting it hang down by her side as she tipped her head back to inhale several deep breaths. Sweat shone off her flushed skin and dark, wet tendrils of hair clung to her temples and jaw, having escaped the bun she wore it in. "Didn't… realize I was getting… backup."

"Whose orders are you acting on?" Why that was the first thing he could bring himself to say, he didn't know. A throb had developed behind his eyes which he knew would worsen. He pushed the realization seeing her nearly mowed down had triggered the lingering effects of the Recomposer away with ruthlessness.

The look she directed at him was self-deprecating. "You know," was all she said.

He did. But he wasn't sure what to think of it. "You're bleeding." The moisture sticking the hair to her left brow was more than just sweat, he noted. A quick glance down to her helmet revealed a coinciding indentation.

"Just a… love tap."

"Palmer to Blue team, do you copy?"

"Good copy, Commander," John answered the comm, ordering his mind. "Provide a sitrep."

"We lost the second bird. I have two injured but stable, all flight personnel down. Still no contact with _Infinity_. Requesting rendezvous."

"Understood. Target coordinates stand. How far out are you?"

"Looks like twenty klicks, give or take. We'll hustle. Palmer out."

Fred and Kelly had already taken up their positions.

Briar was watching him.

"Fireteams Crimson and Majestic," he supplied, since she hadn't been privy to the exchange.

"How far out?"

"Twenty klicks. On foot."

"They're not gonna make... make it," she concluded while still catching her breath, much as he had. As they all had. She twisted to peer upwards, towards the Gateway. "Monitor's trying to… access a self-destruct protocol on the Guardians… but not sure they have one."

"Where are they?"

She jerked her thumb down. "Inside this thing."

John was silent as he mulled over the consequences of a dozen Forerunner-constructs of considerable size imploding within the planet. There were too many variables to formulate a likely outcome.

"Tell me you have a ride out of… here." Her gaze was intent.

"Unknown. We lost contact with _Infinity_. An assault carrier came through as we were being deployed."

"Enemy ground forces incoming," Linda's voice cut in.

He reached for the MA5K over his shoulder. "Company's here."

She nodded. Lifted her helmet. "John…"

"I know." There wasn't time, not to ask her why, what had changed her mind about serving, or if it had changed. Not to tell her he would find a way to make it work, to be more - more than just a soldier. That he'd listened to her song and it'd been the most convoluted and strange thing he'd ever heard, and he'd tried to picture her as a young recruit taking turns swinging at a punching bag but hadn't quite managed it. That he'd just replayed that day aboard _Retribution_ when she'd told him so succinctly that she saw him, truly saw _him_ instead, even if he'd failed to understand what that had meant at the time. There wasn't time for any of it. So he held out the carbine and she took it after donning her helmet. Fred tossed him the DMR he'd been packing on his back and they waited as the first wave of Unggoy, Kig-Yar, and Jiralhanae appeared in the distance, two wraiths and a scarab in their midst as well as several Mgalekgolo.


End file.
